


Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Volume VI

by arcanedreamer



Series: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: first chapter warning: depression, first chapter warning: mentioned suicide, sixth chapter warning: not in gruesome detail but the siphon is...kinda violent in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 54,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanedreamer/pseuds/arcanedreamer
Summary: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the story of the Slayer. In the words of Giles, "Into every generation is born a chosen one... she alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." People like Giles were the Watchers, the English mentors of the Slayers. At least...that was the story.Buffy found a way to unlock the sleeping power within all Potential future Slayers, and now the Slayers are many. Those who survived the last battle helped to form the next Watcher's Council.Investigation of a certain stone mask sparks inquiries into the history of the ancient vampire relic, and some surprise discoveries are made along the way, including that of another legendary line of vampire hunters.Now Buffy, her new ally Josephine, and the rest have to deal with Wolfram & Hart's attempts to get their hands on a Stand Arrow as well as the Stand Users they have recruited.





	1. Silver and Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been long enough I've forgotten how to add a work to an existing series what am i doing  
> in other news this is unbeta'd because I am trash at sending things out in time to be beta'd  
> what is my life  
> (now beta'd)  
> at least i'm doing better than the poor lady in this chapter  
> two more episodes on the 28th? david productions you are mad. awesome but mad

Eileen Goodwill, 62.

She’s sitting in a park staring listlessly at the moving trees. She’s thinking of her adopted child. It’s cold, and she shivers a little. She probably should get back to her flat, get something warm on, but the thought of moving at this moment is unbearable.

Teresa Goodwill. Died when she was 11. To be more specific, she had committed suicide.

There are probably birds chirping, but she can’t hear them. Or maybe the sound of the world is just muted.

Eileen had been young, full of optimism. She could handle her burgeoning career and do a good deed by giving an orphan a good life.

No one had bothered to tell her that Teresa had severe depression. No one had given her the money needed to help treat her young daughter, and she was already overwhelmed because her belief in her ability to take what life threw at her didn’t match reality. No one, not even Teresa’s teacher, warned her that she’d talked about suicide.

Even the light seems dimmer.

She got called in to work unexpectedly, an ‘emergency’, and couldn’t find anyone to look after Teresa on short notice. She returned home to find her daughter on the floor. They’d gotten her to hospital as quickly as possible, but she’d ended up dying later from complications.

The air is biting. Cold.

She went to jail for child neglect. 10 years. She’s not sure if it’s better or worse than she deserves. Because on one hand a troubled little girl is gone from the world, but she hadn’t been prepared no matter what she’d thought, and nobody had bothered to take that into account, to help her.

Like the world is continually judging her.

When she got out, she got the best job she could. It’s not the life she imagined when she was small. And she gives to charity, but it will never erase her sins…

She’s just tired. She’s spent her entire existence trying to make up for what she’s done—

“Excuse me, Miss?” There’s a small tug at her skirt. She blinks, trying to pull herself back into the present.

She glances down to see a girl, tears in her eyes but otherwise keeping herself together. She’s being terribly brave.

“What’s wrong, little girl?” she asks, and another thought occurs to her. “Where are your parents?”

“My sister told me to stay put,” she answers, her lip quivering.

“Your sister’s probably looking for you, frantic. You probably shouldn’t have disobeyed her,” Eileen informs her gently. It’s not a problem that the little girl decided to talk to her, considering her motives are good, but if she’d chosen the wrong person…the parks were safer than they used to be, but it’s far too dangerous for a small girl to be wandering around on her own.

“I always listen to what she tells me,” the girl states proudly, before pouting. “But Murr ran away. She jumped out of my arms and she’s lost and she’s more in danger than I am! Sis wouldn’t want me to just abandon Murr. She got her for me after all.”

Eileen smiles, the burden lifting off of her shoulders. She might have failed Teresa, but she’s not going to fail this little girl, no matter how cold it is, or the fact that she has a weird feeling—all the better than she stays with the girl and helps her.

“Well, let’s find Murr and your sister, all right?” She stands, a little slowly—her joints aren’t what they used to be—but she smiles down at the little girl. “I’m Eileen. What’s your name?”

“I’m Pixie. It’s nice to meet you, Eileen!” Pixie states brightly. She reaches up and takes Eileen’s hand, and her small hand is warm and shy.

“So, what kind of animal is Murr?” It’s a strange name, but she’d named her dog Floppy when she was four, so it’s not like she can talk.

“Murr is my fluffy bunny. She knows who the bad people are and she keeps me safe.” Pixie starts dragging Goodwill through the park.

“That’s good,” the older woman states, even as she’s not sure if that’s actually true. She’s never heard of a runaway rabbit and isn’t sure if they’ll even be able to find this Murr, but she’ll at the least try. Of course this Murr ran away in the most secluded area of the park, where hedges are cut in a small maze. They look neglected, like no one has bothered to trim them and keep them in good condition. They’re overgrown and uninviting. “Has Murr ever run away before?”

“She likes to run away when we go to the park. I think she thinks it’s a game. She’ll come with the clicker, though.” Pixie holds up what looks like a dog clicker proudly and starts using it. The clicking is actually slightly ominous, but if it helps them find the wayward rabbit, it’s worth the effort.

It’s actually slightly anticlimactic when the rabbit emerges from a shrubbery as they pass it not two minutes into the maze. It looks at them apparently entirely innocently, like it hadn’t run off and scared a little girl. Fluffy and adorable.

Eileen blinks. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that the rabbit has…three eyes. But that’s absurd.

Pixie kneels down, letting Eileen’s hand go, arms open wide. “There you are, Murr. I was worried.” The rabbit jumps directly in her arms, as if it had been waiting. Something in her voice sounds wrong—and don’t rabbits usually dislike being picked up? She vaguely remembers that from somewhere…

It happens quickly, too quick to properly catalogue in her mind. One moment, she’s fine. The next, there’s something cold pressing into her back, a sudden wetness spreading. It takes a moment for her to even comprehend what’s going on, and honestly she doesn’t realize until there’s a second instance of the cold and the pain hits her.

“Pixie, run…” Eileen manages, gasping out the words as she falls to her knees, coughing up blood with the force of the blows.

She blinks in utter confusion as the girl smiles angelically at her, seemingly unworried about the presence of a killer. She strokes the fur of the rabbit in her hands. “Daddy always told me that I wouldn’t amount to anything. I had to show him how wrong he was.” She smiles calmly. “Miss Murder says you’re a bad person. You’re the reason your daughter’s dead, Miss Eileen. Isn’t it lucky that your sins always come back to haunt you?”

Eileen opens her mouth to ask a question, deny it, ask Pixie what’s wrong, but all that comes out is a scream as the blows come again and again. Her last sight in this world is the pure, smiling expression of the child as she strokes the rabbit.


	2. The Leaving Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case files.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of few chapters that I would recommend you view on my Dreamwidth because I can't figure out how to do the black highlighter on AO3. (There's something about changing text color on something called CSS but I can barely html especially one-handed [long story boiling down to:tendonitis].)  
> Link: https://madimpossibledreamer.dreamwidth.org/419337.html  
> ~Dreamer~

Case Number XXXXXXX

Date: 00 Month, 2004

Location: XXXXX

Reporting Officers: Astrid Green, Jasper Davidson

Incident Type: Homicide

Witnesses:

Dr. Arabella Hall: marine biologist, coworker. Female, 24, English.

Evidence: A blood-covered harpoon, decorative

Record of keycard usage  
Blood recovered from the shark pool

Bodies of sharks

On date, at approximately 10:54 AM, Dr. Arabella Hall reported to work as per her work schedule for that week. When she arrived, she saw that her coworker (Dr. Robert Ackerman)’s locker was slightly open and proceeded to open the locker. She discovered the remains of Dr. Ackerman inside the locker and proceeded to the women’s restroom to vomit before calling the police.

Officer Jasper Davidson arrived at the scene and cordoned off the scene. The owner of the zoo, Theodore “Teddie” James, was on scene by this point and distraught more by the possibility of portions of the zoo being shut down than by his employee’s death. Officer Green had to mention obstruction of justice before he allowed us full access.

Blood was found in the pool, and the analysts are trying to extract DNA from the blood to determine whether the blood came from Dr. Ackerman, the sharks, or the perpetrator. I also found blood traces with application of luminol in the shower area. It had been cleaned with bleach. Given the amount of blood present there, I suspect that the shower area is at least where the body was cut up, particularly since drops were found between the shower area and the lockers where his body was found. The shower area would also serve as a much easier location to cut up the body than in the pool.

The analysts are also examining the bodies of sharks found within the shark pool. They had also been cut up. Preliminary results suggest that a different instrument was used to cut up the sharks and Dr. Ackerman, and the techs even briefly mentioned that they’d never seen anything like what had been used on the sharks.

Practically everything was wiped down, and I wasn’t able to find any useful fingerprints.

Officer Eduard Romero from the Gang Unit added that the victim had met with members of the Ogre Street Gang on occasion and is checking out that lead. In general neither the Ogre Street Gang nor their rivals are known for homicide, particularly in such a brutal fashion, but it’s worth the investigation.

There were a number of visitors still in the zoo.The electronic equipment experienced some sort of power fluctuation all day.None of the staff questioned noted any visitors approaching the back, and even if they did, they would have needed a keycard to get into the area.No keycards had been reported stolen.The owner, Dr. Patrick Robertson, Dr. Timothy Hawkins, and Dr. Arabella Hall were the only recorded entries into the area, leading to questions of when and why Dr. Ackerman entered the restricted area.Dr. Hall entered the area at the time she stated, and this was later than the presumed time of death (likely between 9AM and 10:30AM, as neither the center nor the system was open before 9AM and there was at least some cooling before the discovery of the body).

Dr. Ackerman hadn’t been scheduled to report into work until the same time as Dr. Hall. None of the zoo staff remembered seeing Dr. Ackerman arrive, and why he would have reported to work early or how he’d entered the area is unknown. They weren’t certain, but believed only actual employees had entered the back, especially during the estimated time of death. It’s possible that if the power out anyone could have gotten in, though the owner claims that the system was designed as to lock if the power went out. Officer Green is going to question the company that installed the system to determine if it is certain that the system locks when the power goes out. If this is true, then it is likely one of the three who used their keycards, escorting him into the back and then killing him.

It is believed that some of Dr. Ackerman’s research notes were stolen, but since he didn’t discuss his work with his colleagues it is unclear what if any papers were missing from his locker (the same one he had been stuffed in).

No obvious clues were found in Dr. Ackerman’s flat. There were no copies of the research notes or indications what might have been contained in those notes. There were no notes on the calendar or notepad as to meetings or reasons for going in early. There are no obvious signs of a disturbance.

A decorative harpoon ended up in pieces in the pool. It is not the right size to be the murder weapon. Nothing was found that could match the cuts of the murder weapon. The victim was cut into pieces alive. Apparently, the cuts were sloppy, meaning that the culprit has probably at least not killed in this way before and does not have previous experience such as with someone who had previously killed, or a doctor or butcher. The mortician believes that the cause of death was blood loss. ......

Case Number XXXXXXX

Date: 00 Month, 2004

Location: XXXXX

Reporting Officers: Astrid Green, Jasper Davidson, Nicholas Gibbons, and Mohammed Khan

Incident Type: Double Homicide

Witnesses:

XXXXXX

Neighbor Jasmine Lane

Neighbors Mr. Archer Moss and Mrs. Margaret Moss

Evidence: (3) broken chairs

(1) broken vase

XXXXXX

XXXXXX

XXXXXX

XXXXXX

At approximately 0000, we received two 999 phone calls about a fight in a residence, XXXXXX. We have had to report to this residence before for similar calls, but this time smoke was also mentioned. Paramedics Julius Fisher and Olivia Flint and firefighters John Hoyle and Peter Hearne also reported to the house as neither call indicated whether anyone was hurt and whether a fire was present that could spread.

Upon entering the residence it was discovered that Gloria and Julius Violetta were deceased.A number of the items within including the furniture were broken, and other items, and other items, such as jewelry boasted about to neighbor Jasmine Lane, were missing.

Officer Khan needed a minute, as the signs of burglary and the multiple stab wounds to the stomach reminded him of the infamous XXXXX case he worked. Since the criminals are still in prison, the possibility of a copycat has been raised. Cause of death in both cases was pronounced to be blood loss, between 0000-0000, and the coroner has assured me that the deaths would have been long, slow, and painful.

The adoptive daughter, Darling Violetta, is still missing. Officer reports that he spoke to a girl approximately fitting that description, but had not been informed of the fact that the Violettas had a daughter at the time—


	3. Working for the Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew talks to (and flirts with) a cop.

“I don’t have time to watch you read all of the case files, as much as I enjoy the view,” the police officer interrupts, and Andrew jumps. He’s never gotten to read things like this except in books and it’s fascinating seeing the real thing in person.

“Are you...supposed to be giving me these things?” he asks, fidgeting a little, because this Officer Davidson is handsome and he doesn’t want to get the guy in trouble even if police reports could be kinda useful (honestly, if they needed copies they could always just get Willow to hack the server; she’d been rusty to start with but she’d gotten a lot better once she got back into the swing of things)…

“Those are copies, and don’t worry, I wasn’t as blatant as photocopying all of these,” Officer Davidson (he can’t think of the guy as Jasper, he needs to retain that professional distance) responds with a smile. “Though I’m flattered by the fact that you’re worried about me.”

“Why are you giving these to me, then?” Andrew’s gotten a lot better about not being flustered but this officer is definitely getting to him. It might be the uniform.

The copper reaches out and taps his fingers on the files, as if to prove a point. “It’s the nature of the incidents. I didn’t mention it in the first report, but I’m almost certain that the case is a locked room mystery. Green won’t say it but she suspects the owner, though I wonder if that isn’t half his attitude. If not for the sharks, I might have agreed, but they almost appear like their stomachs exploded, and this isn’t some cartoon. Someone didn’t just stuff dynamite down their jaws.”

That does kind of sound like a spell, or maybe a demon, but that might just be because that’s Andrew’s area of expertise. He doesn’t say anything in response, which the officer takes as an invitation to continue.

“Unfortunately, the blood in the pool was found to be a mix of shark blood and that of a young man called Alexander Harris.” Andrew starts, eyes wide, and if the cop had come here to gather information he’s unfortunately getting more of it than planned. “This Harris from what I could find has ties to the Council, so I thought that I would warn you he’s wanted at the very least as a witness. I can also tell you that the research stolen was not to do with marine biology, but in fact had to do with his side job. Dr. Ackerman worked with me to build a list on a new group of magic-users calling themselves Stand Users. I suspect he wanted to share his results with someone not me, but I didn’t ask about that directly, as I have to be careful myself. Sharing information like this could get me in a lot of trouble if I wasn’t careful.”

Andrew opens his mouth only to be met by another smile. “I’m careful.” He shrugs and continues. “There’s more. The ashes and blood in that circle are being pushed as a satanic ritual angle by the media. I’m aware that amount of ash probably indicates a horde of vampires, but that much blood is too much to have come from a single Slayer, and the Council I knew wasn’t in the habit of taking matters into their own hands. You’ll be glad to hear that the DNA concealing spell worked. Similarly, the media seems to have convinced the public that the stunt with the statues is just that: a stunt. We both know better.”

“This isn’t Dr. Who. The world’s tech isn’t good enough we’ve got flying robots yet,” Andrew agrees, earning a brilliant smile before Davidson gets back to the serious conversation. 

“There are several other copycat killings. The means of death are all different—a few are even being treated as suicides—but I put together the pattern of copycat deaths and a common thread between the victims. All had tried to adopt children, though it’s not probably a case of the adoptive children being fae or something as in some cases the adoptive children weren’t even alive at the time of death. Again, sounds like the Council’s sort of case. There’s someone who threw themselves in front of a lorry, but that might’ve just been an actual case of suicide as they weren’t an adoptive parent. I’ve found the bodies of known witches and demons, dead with no cause of death. The last one is more of an oddity than anything, but I thought I’d include it while I was at it—the death of artist Courtney Love. She wasn’t an adoptive parent like the others. She leapt to her death, and the fall killed her, but there was water in her lungs the first time the body was examined, and no sign of the water upon re-examination. It’s being treated as a mistake, but McLaren isn’t the type to make that kind of mistake. Love had just had a physical, and I’m informed the doctor found no sign of pneumonia then.” 

Andrew blinks, confused.

“I wouldn’t have even have included it if my instincts hadn’t said there was more to this case than meets the eye… _and_ if six bodies of young women hadn’t been found missing their eyes and with symptoms of drowning without a drop in their lungs at the old Council mansion.” The officer leans forward, eyes hard. “The last time this many Council bodies showed up, I was told the world was ending and I needed to stay away for my own safety. How bad is this going to get?”

Watcher Wells takes a moment to process, because that’s a lot to be told all at once and he really has to think through what he says next—“Lawyers also started a gang war in Italy,” he blurts accidentally and then finds himself blushing, because foot-in-mouth syndrome seems to be catching.

Officer Davidson stifles a snort, eyes crinkling up at the smile.

“Ah, Officer Davidson. I’m pleased you managed to avoid the attentions of the First,” Giles adds, and Andrew starts a little, sitting up straighter and brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his suit. He’s not sure if Giles doesn’t notice, or if Giles is just pretending not to notice to spare him embarrassment.

“Sir Giles. I remember you. Thanks for the warning. Am I allowed to know what happened with all that?” Officer Davidson rises a little from his seat, offering a hand for a handshake, which Giles accepts. Andrew is both pleased and a little embarrassed that Davidson is friendly and respectful but not flirty with Giles.

“Fortunately, the world didn’t end, and we were able to rebuild. There’s more than one Slayer in the world now, as you might have guessed. Unfortunately, someone managed to turn some of those Slayers into vampires, and in addition, the Wolfram & Hart lawyers seem to have made an enemy of a water demon—probably the same one that attacked the mansion. I believe it was looking for answers, as we did have research on Wolfram & Hart in the mansion.”

Davidson nods thoughtfully. “I have noticed more activity on their front as well, but Watcher Butterworth warned me it was better to not get involved there.”

“I’m sorry to inform you that Audrey is dead, though it is true, as someone without powers it’s better not to get involved with their firm.” Giles attempts a smile. “You’ll be glad to hear that we are most likely not on the verge of another apocalypse. We appreciate the information, as it brought to light a number of incidents we were not aware of. The only information we can really give you in return is that there is a new power akin to that of a witch that is highly dangerous, and a special arrow artifact unlocks that ability. Other than that, I can only promise you that we will look into and attempt to solve those incidents, and ask you to take care.”

Officer Davidson sighs but nods. “I would ask the both of you do the same, particularly you, Andrew, was it?” He stands, and smiles, and Andrew stammers.

“I’ll l-lead you out!” He almost knocks the chair over in his haste, and yet Officer Davidson doesn’t act like he’s a klutz or a burden.

“With such enthusiasm, how could I say no?”


	4. Italy's Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy has a conversation with an unexpected guest.

Buffy’s so very done with arguing with her friends. She’s not good with being told that she can’t do something, and while they’re right that Council resources almost overnight became something a lot smaller, they can spare, say, a day to check some of these threats out, because one threat less is another threat that’s not going to come to kill them later. It was nice having a short break teasing Andrew about the cute police officer flirting with him, but it didn’t provide enough of a distraction. 

She walks into her room, exhausted, and freezes, as if time itself has stopped. There’s a young blond man posing in the nice fluffy armchair she’d hauled down to her new room in their new base. From the way he’s sitting, it’s like a throne, and he’s the king. “Excuse me, can I help you?” It’s her idea of banter before she has to attack the intruder, but he treats it seriously, as if it was an actual question.

“I was hoping we could help each other.” The voice is familiar, but she can’t quite place it. It’s quiet, polite, gentle almost, but there’s something underneath the careful enunciation and slight accent. “I’m afraid I made a move without asking about your own plans, but the situation is a dynamic one, and I’m sure you would not begrudge us acting on our own interests.”

Buffy doesn’t think he’s one of the new Watchers, partly because she doesn’t recognize him and partly because the way he’s talking suggests he’s not part of the new Slayer’s and Watcher’s Council. “Uh. Who are you?”

He coughs politely, looking for but a fraction of a second embarrassed. “Of course, my apologies. I should have realized that expecting Dr. Kujo to explain is a futile effort.” He holds out a hand languidly for her to shake. “My name is Giorno Giovanna, Signorina Summers. I called about the theft of the Stand Arrow before.”

She breathes out carefully. “That got the love of my life killed.”

He blinks, and actually takes a moment or two to respond. “That reinforces my resolve to act against Wolfram and Hart. I’m not sure your people could be called ‘innocent’ any more than mine, but they have gone too far.”

That’s…not exactly an apology, but it’s acceptable. From one warrior to another, it’s a focus on what really matters. It’s better than false sympathy—well, not that this person would give her that; it sounds like he honestly would be sorry, because he’s seen and experienced the same sorts of tragedy, but the apologies aren’t productive, and it’s not like he’s sorry for actually warning them about the Arrow since apparently that’s a big deal.

“You feel weird,” she realizes, eyeing him carefully.

There’s a spark in his eyes—amusement, excitement, something else. “Interesting. My research called you a Vampire Slayer, but the exact abilities were not detailed. What you probably sense…is my father.” He produces an ornate golden cross from somewhere, twirling it between his fingers. If it wasn’t such an elaborate production, it would be showing off. “My father was a vampire named DIO. I believe his name was mentioned during the phone call. I have been working to undo the damage he caused.”

“You’re…the son of a vampire?” She’s trying to remember whether she’s actually heard of anything along those lines before. Is she supposed to attack him on principle, or—wait, is she supposed to treat him like…like Spike and others like that, if he’s actually working to protect people? Was the dad one of those new vampires they hadn’t encountered before?

“Yes. He stole _padre_ Jonathan’s body, which is why I share the birthmark, according to Polnareff. I do not believe most vampires are capable of reproduction.” He shrugs elaborately. “I explain this to you so you can trust me to be honest with you.”

He says that, but she senses his resolve. He’s ready for a fight, should she start one.

“…You realize how all of this sounds, right?” she responds, finally sitting down on the bed and letting herself relax a little.

That’s the slightest sign of a smile. “Oh, I’m aware. My best advisor is a ghost trapped in the soul room of a turtle.” He lets the cross hang from his hand casually. “I am aware that such things also need verification. It would be irresponsible not to check your facts, after all.”

She snorts. “Is that what you do?”

“Of course.” He’s still amused. “I’d be a poor leader of the Passione if I did otherwise.”

Of course, he’s not the only one, either. He looks a bit bemused as she bursts into a fit of full-body laughter. “…Okay, that sounds like either a strip club or a boy band.”

He coughs, and for the first time looks not entirely in control of the situation. He hadn’t been expecting that, apparently. “It’s a gang,” he corrects softly, once he gets his voice back. “I believe it would be comparable to the Mafia, if you are inclined to think of it in such a way. Naturally, the traditional Mafia doesn’t have Stands.” Well, that explains the whole Italy comment Jotaro had made earlier. A whole country full of mobsters with powers (whose boss was related to Xander, how weird was that) would definitely be a deterrent. 

“Naturally,” she echoes. “So, assuming I believe you are who you say—why would you be here expecting my help and vice versa?”

He nods, pulling—is that a mouse?—out of one of his pockets. He pets it. “Relax,” he reassures her, before making a complicated gesture with his hands that she suspects isn’t entirely necessary, and it’s—

It’s a bunch of papers? Does he know magic, or?

“It’s the power of Gold Experience.” He’s definitely smug about it, but then, she’d be smug if she could, say, create spider webs as tough as Kevlar with a ghostly representation of her soul. “Research, though naturally I didn’t copy everything. Wolfram & Hart has involved itself in places it should not have been, only they pose more danger than the vampires that established themselves on the island. Fugo volunteered to deal with them and with his Stand the cleanup was relatively easy.” The smile turns slightly nasty. 

That’s the sign of a killer. It’s taken her forever to accept her own predatory nature, the nature of a Slayer. “Sorry about our mess. We’d meant to clean it up.”

He waves it off casually, as if it really was the spilt milk that required a few towels she’d treated it as. “On the other hand, Wolfram & Hart is not so isolated, and therefore unleashing Purple Haze among a civilian populace would be highly irresponsible. I dispatched a few of my Stand Users, ones good at assassination, to deal with the representatives of Wolfram & Hart they could, but I feel neither our forces nor yours could stop them entirely on our own. Joining our power to deal with this threat is the best way.” He nods at the now-inanimate files sitting on his lap. “From what I can tell, Wolfram & Hart is recruiting already existing Stand Users, making themselves a clear and present threat, particularly when they don’t know their place and seek mastery of the Stand Arrows.”

“Recruiting?” That doesn’t sound good.

“The test to join appears to be successful elimination of a name on a list. _Cugino_ Johan’s name is one of these targets.” The wrath in those blue eyes promises danger to any idiot going that far.

Well. That’s definitely not good. “Come with me. Giles needs to hear this.”

He inclines his head and gestures for her to lead on.


	5. Conversational Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno talks to the Council.

Giorno might be a little uncomfortable walking through their base filled with Slayers, who might also sense his not-entirely-human status, but to his credit he shows absolutely no signs of this. If he was entirely human, he wouldn’t ‘ping’ at all. Instead, he feels like this odd mix between the wrongness of a vampire or demon and the reassuring feeling of another Slayer that screams ‘ally’, and it’s vaguely disconcerting. When she returns to the central hub, she’s surprised to see Jotaro, who’d disappeared for a while after learning about the deaths on the train. If Willow and Giles hadn’t wanted her input (to ignore it, really), she might have joined him. A few scuffles with living ststues isn’t enough.

“Good to see you, Dr. Kujo,” the blond states warmly, and only earns a grunt in response.

Kakyoin smiles at his friend. “Ever since meeting Buffy you seem a lot calmer.”

“Hmm.” Jotaro fiddles with his hat. Buffy’s touched by the statement, and pretty sure he’s still mad that he didn’t go on the train. That others died. It’s a sentiment Buffy can understand, mostly because she’s that angry herself. Despite his rivalry and seemingly downright dislike of Angel, Spike slipped out to find some violence, and if they hadn’t been keeping such an eye on her, she might’ve come with, or at least followed his example.

“I appreciate the number of allies we have gained, but I would prefer if you all actually used the front door. You’re wrecking havoc on our magical security systems.” Giles is annoyed. It’s easy enough to read why. He certainly doesn’t feel the same about Angel’s death as she does, but it’s still the death of someone they’d known, someone who was a good fighter. No one was safe. They don’t want to lose her. They’re just acting out of fear, same as with the First, and while it’s understandable, just like last time they won’t get anywhere just acting in fear.

“My apologies. Bad habits, of course. I’m not used to dealing with civilians.” From Jotaro’s reaction (an amused snort) it’s not meant to be annoyingly arrogant. That’s just how it turns out.

Giles huffs, feathers ruffled. “Civilians? I assure you, sir, the Council has been at this far longer than…”

“I did not mean to imply that you were terrible at your jobs. Rather, I’m referring to the distinction between your world and mine.” At Giles’ raised eyebrow, with a slight smile he explains, “I did not mention my full title, did I? Giorno Giovanna, Don of Passione. Essentially, Mafia Boss, though the analogy is slightly inaccurate.” The room falls silent. At Giles’ shocked stare, he continues, “I like to think I’ve behaved myself so far.”

Jotaro laughs at that. “Don’t even bother to claim the zoo thing wasn’t you. Bunch of lawyers got beat up on the tarmac though they probably deserved a beating. Read some maniac stole a car and turned a lady cop’s baton into a snake, too. And there was something about an elephant running through the streets?”

Giorno gets a little more still. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. It was, what’s the English phrase…Desperate times call for desperate measures, maybe? I didn’t manage to find the Stand User, but I did cut off one of the Hydra’s heads. As for Wolfram & Hart, maybe they should consider their options more carefully before ambushing myself and my pilot the instant we landed.”

Jotaro’s still laid back. “Figured as much. Still, if the old man’s stories mean anything, our bloodline attracts trouble like blood in the water. Not much you can do about that.”

“It helps when you don’t go around looking for trouble,” Kakyoin states, a hint of fondness warring with the annoyance in his tone.

“Tch.” Jotaro pulls his hat down a little. “Well, the lawyers got their hands on an Arrow. You still got yours?”

“Sì, Dottoressa di Ricerca Kujo.” Giorno states confidently.

Buffy interrupts, feeling her stomach drop out. “You’ve…you’ve been carrying one of the Arrows around with you this entire time.”

“Problem?” The way he asks, thickening his accent…he knows exactly why she’s worried and is acting clueless on purpose.

“You think maybe that’s why you got jumped at the airport?” Buffy asks incredulously, and Giorno frowns, accent instantly dropping.

“The fact that I have it is a closely guarded secret, even among Passione…” He plays with his hair tie, absently turning it into a butterfly and back without seemingly even noticing. “If someone has learned that, that’s a worrying prospect.”

“Well, Don Giovanna, why are you here?” Giles is still annoyed.

“Fugo took care of the Slayer-Vampires, huh?” Jotaro asks knowingly and gets a smug look in response. 

“When I say the situation has been dealt with it is no exaggeration. Signor Giles, I have multiple objectives that may benefit both our organizations, as I already discussed with Signora Summers.” Buffy realizes with a start that Giorno is treating her as the leader, not Giles. He’s appeasing Giles’ offended ego, offering a superfluous choice—but if push comes to shove he’ll defer to her. “The most prominent of these is that Wolfram & Hart pose difficulties for both our organizations, including hunting my cousin, a member of your organization, with Stand Users they have recruited or created. It would make sense to ally ourselves, particularly now that they have gotten their hands on an Arrow. Also, aiding famiglia and their famiglia elettiva is always a worthwhile endeavor.” 

“Did you retrieve an artifact called a Stone Mask?” she asks, and Jotaro stiffens. Interesting. He trusts Giorno—up to a point. Enough to tease him. But there’s still something holding him back, some wariness.

Giorno frowns. “Fugo didn’t mention such a discovery, no. I assume this artifact is dangerous like the Arrow.”

“Without Miss Doffler and her followers, the Mask can easily be acquired by this Mr. Fugo,” Giles states dismissively.

“If we don’t secure the Mask, we can’t be sure. Xander warned us about it, and we ignored him, and look what happened.” Buffy argues, only it feels like she’s been arguing with a wall.

“As we’ve discussed, we can’t spare the resources, and it’s not as if they’re a threat any longer.” Giles cleans his glasses.

Buffy sighs at the short-sightedness. “That’s what we thought about the Trio, and we were majorly wrong.”

“We hadn’t been taking them seriously from the first. In this case, they are defeated, by a power Dr. Kujo assures us is impossible to survive. Instead, we are tracing Simone’s steps, to discover if there’s anything else we should know.” Giles is just repeating himself and it’s getting annoying at this point. She’s not getting anywhere.

“Perhaps we should leave those efforts to you and coordinate our approach against W&H,” Giorno suggests with a smile, and stands as Giles nods.


	6. Liar Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Siphon appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda Angel dark. There's definitely violence.  
> bitch is used to mean female dog, though the Siphon isn’t a good guy, either. Obviously.  
> again I have read bits & pieces of comics & wiki but i have different plans for the Siphon.

There’s been rumors. Ripples through the demonic underworld. There’s one of the Old Ones on Earth again, but it has not been making itself known, acting to conquer the world in the ancient ways of worship and blood. The Siphon, prophesied for aeons, is on the prowl, on the hunt. Its motives are unknown, but the bodies left motionless, with no animating power, the results are there for all to see. It’s rumored that the Siphon is more dangerous than the Slayer, even the Slayer, Defier of Prophecy. A new type of vampire, one that is immune to staking, one with strange new powers over its own body, has appeared and begins destroying everything that will not cooperate with it with the powers of a New Slayer. They chose to taunt the Passione in their choice of base, though, leading to a large number of them dying by humans with strange powers of the soul. Memories of these Humans with Fighting Souls are (probably) inserted memories, but the truth of their presence is undeniable. The fear is palpable on the air, leading to slaughter. Leading to blood.

The Siphon himself doesn’t listen to the rumors, except to smirk. It feels almost as if he can subsist on fear as much as he subsists on the power.

He’d just arrived by boat. An old style of travel, he’s sure, but they’re not wrong about the Hunt. It’s the only thing that matters, the redemption of a bloodline tainted by decades of failure.

“…participating in the blood-hunt….” he hears from a nearby table and strides over quickly with a predatory grace, smoothly burying a knife in the table mere inches from hands human to lesser eyes before any of them have even seen him or registered him as a threat.

“I will join in.” He refuses to show them the proper respect, that it is technically their choice whether he participates. Demons respect strength, and he has no intention of showing them anything else.

“Who the hell are you?” one asks in shock and a little fear.

He’s just fed, of course he’s more powerful. But he doesn’t explain anything, either. It implies they’re owed an explanation. “Obsidian,” he answers, because it’s a name he’d used, once, when he’d been young and blind, before he’d been thrust into the war. That name earns a little respect, because he’d used that name before, as well, once he’d begun.

“There’s a beginner’s trial,” a creature he recognizes as a courtesan demon wearing a human face looks him over with approval, sensing the power he holds within. He’ll have to be careful, since her powers work vaguely the same as his, albeit at the level of child’s play. Still, the easiest way to blind her would be to keep her close. Just like humans, demons tended to frame things in terms of what they knew, and if he acts like an incubus, well…

“Try me,” he challenges, holding her gaze with heat and power, and feels rather than hears her purr from where she’s draped herself over one of the two demons appearing like sailors.

“There’s a demon nest that refuses to pay tribute, at this address in the northeast of town. Wipe them out,” one tells him, pressing a dirty paper into his hands. The other laughs harshly.

“Sounds like fun,” he agrees and easily enough disappears from their site.

He enjoys making them fall. He doesn’t even obviously use his Siphon powers, because he can’t know if they’re monitoring him in some way. He’s already full, so he uses the power to just tear them apart instead, light and power twining to destroy.

When he returns, only a little blood of his own on his cheek and the rest from the carnage, the courtesan comes to his side immediately, licking the blood from his face in a gesture he’s sure is meant to seduce. He won’t mind using her before she and the rest die when they fail to tell him what he needs to know or when they cease to amuse. One of the sailors twitches, and soon enough is charging, ready to kill.

He merely puts a fist through the demon’s chest, grasping the organ passing for a heart and forcing it up through its throat. It chokes.

There’s a theatrical clapping, and a dapper demon pretending to be a human steps out of the shadows, a cane tucked under his shoulder. “Well done.” He categorizes this demon as The Peacock, fluttering his plumage. The Siphon isn’t impressed, but only a little challenges his power by smearing three fingers worth of blood onto the demon’s cheek. He’ll kill him later.

“I pay tribute,” he states, and it’s enough, even as he ruffles Peacock’s feathers.

Time and time again he’s sent to kill more, meant to die himself, an irreverent interloper. Time and time again he dispatches the targets with a maximum of violence. It doesn’t hurt to learn more about the different breeds of demons, to better rid the world of their stain, to choose his power based on their own. 

His bloodthirst draws attention from the others—Mouthless, though it’s difficult to understand what he thinks of the world or if he even understands any of it, Bonehead, Burn Victim, Shadow Crow, two vampires. And, of course, the courtesan demon, who’s attached herself to his side almost constantly, lapping the blood off his face much like a loyal bitch when he returns. She doesn’t make much of a dog in other respects, though. He does his best to not siphon too much of her magic just yet, though it seems as if she senses his hunger. The draining of her power seems to excite her, spurring her to greater heights. He alternates between amused appreciation, for he’s never had anything quite so much like a partner in crime, and the bittersweet transience only makes it that much more delicious, in the end, and sneering disgust at how she hasn’t realized, yet, what he is, that she should run should she desire to live. He wouldn’t track her down and leave her screaming and bleeding out pinned in some public place. Probably. The danger merely draws her closer, a helpless moth with him, the flame. He is, clearly, getting better at hiding his true nature, particularly in places where his ruthless nature is seen as a bonus. He’s never had so much fun holding back. Peacock alternates, at least, between annoyance (at least his lack of fear is due to arrogance, not necessarily ignorance of the level of his power even if the fact that he’s the Siphon is not known) and a preening pride to have such savagery at his disposal.

The time of the blood-hunt comes. It turns out all participating get their names put in a hat, and those drawn must either fight or be executed. As usual, he turns toward the event with indifference. Those shown to be stronger are more likely to be hunters or executioners.

Some, the cowards, watch, without participating. He’d love to start with gutting them, but alas. He’ll play by the rules, at least for a little while. He plans to kill them all, today, an unmatched bloodbath, the kind of risk that sets even his heart pumping, and get what they know about the Old One, his true prey.

Some of the executions are painless. He shows his contempt by becoming even more ferocious in his own strategy, leaving them to die slowly, bleeding out in agony.

At some point, Bonehead realizes that he’s planning on leaving none alive. While he’s sitting in the gallery, he’s tackled. Peacock yelps something about rules and civilization, and he grins and unleashes the beast within. He smashes the skull into the ground again and again until it crumbles, all the while using his Siphon powers without careful regulation. A vampire rushes him and without even looking back, he drives his elbow back through the demon’s skull, dusting it effortlessly. It’s no harder to catch the cane Peacock sends toward his own unprotected head. The demon attempts to pull away the cane, but he’s pretty sure he’s reached a new level of strength. It doesn’t move a centimeter.

“Who are you?” the courtesan asks, voice afraid but still interested, too. He understands now. She’d been waiting to see what he would do. She’d known the truth, as much as she could. She was just destined for a tragedy.

“The Siphon,” he responds, and feels the rush at the fear that accompanies his true name. The two vampires and Burn Victim try to take him all at once, but they’re unprepared for his true speed. He leaves them coughing in their own blood, bent bodies at his feet. “I want to know about the Old One walking the Mortal Plane. You might as well tell me. I could ease your passing.”

None answer him, not in the stands, not in the playing field, not when he starts systematically dismembering them, not when he begins to drain them. He’s brimming with power at the end, so he just obliterates a few vampires outright, just to prevent his body from overload. At last, it’s only the trembling courtesan, afraid but brave. She hasn’t run but is still in the same place as when this started, covered in the blood and viscera of nearby kills.

“Why did you leave me for last?” she wonders, hope in her eyes, and for once, he disregards the impulse to shred and maim. She’s earned the truth, at least.

“A courtesy, my dear. Destruction is easy enough to come by, but a poisoned withering rose? You are a rarity.” He caresses her cheek.

She smiles against the coming oblivion. “I’m glad I meant something to you as you meant something to me. I will tell you the whispers of mortal men in their death-throes. You have heard of Wolfram & Hart?”

He nods, reaching into a pocket to find a handkerchief and cleaning the blood from her face.

“Sometimes I will take their lawyers. It is not as if they do not serve even in death, of course. A former Watcher of the Shadows was drawn into their web. He said that an Old One or one of the First Generation was caught by the Shadow Men and infused into the girl called the Slayer. He himself seeks to become Ascended,” she explains, gently holding his hand.

He smiles. At last, a lead, and one she would have given freely. “Don’t worry. You will live on in my power.” He means it mockingly, but fails.

“The kiss of death?” she clarifies—begs, and far be it for a gentleman to ignore a lady’s request on the eve of death. He pulls her in, and kisses her gently, desperately, until all life has left her body. He picks her up, takes her to her bed, and arranges her to his satisfaction. He leaves a black rose, a token of his regard, changes into more suitable clothing, and bids his final farewell to his lady.


	7. A Little Scheme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno and Buffy have another little chat.

“What does this Mask do?” Giorno asks as they stroll through the garden (the closest thing any of them can get to being alone). While he’d been on edge the entire time while in the building (not like walking into a fight; more like walking into Sunnydale High knowing that while there are allies there trouble could also happen anytime), out here he finally relaxes. True, he’d carried himself casually but she hadn’t missed the watchful look in his eyes.

“Why doesn’t Jotaro want you to know about the Mask?” Buffy counters, enjoying herself because just like with Josephine she doesn’t have to hold back (and he doesn’t have the whole awkward Xander’s Mom thing going on). She’s kinda curious about how the two would interact, but with Josephine haunting all the restaurants (in an attempt to run into Xander or a trait mother and son share, Buffy can’t entirely tell) it’s hard to tell when that will happen.

Giorno nods approvingly, holding out a hand, awe in his eyes, as a butterfly lands on his hand. It’s hard to reconcile the killer with the wide-eyed wonder on his face, suddenly making him look young. It flies off, and Giorno collects his thoughts. “I believe I can guess the answer to both of our questions. DIO might have fathered me as a vampire, but apparently he was not always that way. I have proven myself to those such as Jotaro who have suffered at the hands of my father, but old fears linger. I would never choose to become a vampire, but, as I said, it is hard to discard such fears.”

Buffy nods. He’s good. “Well, you can see why I don’t want it to fall into the hands of demon lawyers.”

“This is true, but Fugo is capable of retrieving the mask, and we would, of course, as a show of good faith, turn the artifact back over to you,” Giorno offers, and Buffy still hesitates.

“Would you trust the results if one of your people had been the one to solve the issue in Italy?” Giorno asks. His tone is light, but there’s an air of attentiveness about him that says he’s actually interested in the answer.

She hesitates, then answers, “It isn’t a matter of trust. I’d still want to confirm it.”

Giorno just hums in response, which she finds irritating.

“What?” she asks, stopping in place, and Giorno does, too, gracefully as if he’d intended it all along.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Giorno is quick to point out, still completely serene. “It’s just that as a leader you have much to learn, but I cannot take the credit for my growth either.”

And that just brings back memories of all the doubts, her being kicked out as leader from the fight against the First. Before she can say anything, Giorno continues as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s difficult to be a leader when all you try to do is take care of your problems yourself. I used to be the same way, since I had no one to rely on but myself when I joined Passione. A man named Bruno Bucciarati showed me that a team is no use if you do not utilize it, and a thorough knowledge of your teammates’ abilities and trust in their competence are the strongest assets a leader has. Without trust, there is no teamwork.” He’s half talking to himself. “I’m still learning, myself.” His tone isn’t judgmental, just compassionate. Of course, with a man with as much self-control as Giorno seems to have, he could be carefully composing the emotions he projects, but he’s not faking the respect, and while he might conceal information, particularly from Giles, she doesn’t think he’d be dishonest with her, even if it’s just emotions.

“Well, perhaps you can practice by working with your allies,” Giorno suggests. That look on his face, while milder, is the I Have a Terrible Plan look.

Despite what he says, though, it’s easier. It’s easier with Jotaro and his friend and Josephine and now Giorno, because they don’t have decades of expectations for her, including the expectations for The Slayer. And she’s always been more of an action gal anyway. She starts walking again, and Giorno smoothly joins her. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t believe I’ve paid my respects to the local Wolfram & Hart.” He is essentially proposing that they go raid them, which is probably a terrible idea. On the other hand, she’s tired of sitting around waiting for them to make the first move. Watchers might be good at Watching, but that’s not her and never has been. Wandering around in the dark while her opponents have all the cards just isn’t her style. “I believe I have a means of making us go undetected, if you’re up for it.” It’s a little disappointing, but then, it’s not like they can just get information between Giles’ encyclopedic knowledge and beating up Willy. “It’s not my preferred method of dealing with them, either,” Giorno agrees to her silent protest, “…but unfortunately they’re not likely to get the message. They’re rather stupid that way.”

Buffy stifles a chuckle and nods. “Angel did mention a few things, before he…” She trails off, and the mafia boss looks away, admiring the bird flitting through the trees over there. “They have a department called the Special Projects Division. While it was important long-term, it wasn’t that must-have pair of boots.” 

While that would get an annoyed look from Giles, Giorno merely nods as if that’s perfectly normal. Which, well, he’s from Italy, being fashion-conscious might just be a thing. “They changed their approach.”

“He’d joined them to attack the leadership and struck a major blow against them.” Giorno doesn’t judge that, either, stride not pausing as they walk.

“So they’re attempting to regain lost glories,” he states quietly, and…well, it’s as likely a reason as any.

“Let’s make sure they don’t get there,” Buffy suggests, and gets a decisive nod in return.


	8. Omake 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine and Josuke meet up.

Josuke can’t help the pleased grin as hands cover his eyes playfully. He doesn’t even have to look to guess who it is. After all, it brings back memories of barefoot breakfasts in the kitchen.

“Next time you flee into another dimension, could you warn me first?” he asks, and his daughter shakes her head gently.

“Hey Jojo-chan! You’re okay!” Okuyasu exclaims, grinning widely.

Jojo spares a smile for her uncle. “So are you,” she responds softly before putting a little more of her usual energy in her tone—even if it’s rare for her to show her anger like this. “I didn’t have enough time. I don’t remember what was chasing us, and it wasn’t just Sarde.” She spits the name out like it’s poison, and Josuke retrieves the comb from his jacket to ensure his hair remains presentable. True, he’d barely met the man, as he wasn’t as involved in Speedwagon Foundation affairs as his daughter or Koichi, but Josephine had, on multiple occasions, indicated how creepy she’d found the guy, which always has his hackles up.

“And you don’t remember after I undid Enigma,” Josuke clarifies hopefully and gets a shake of the head in return. Of course not; that would be too easy.

“I went to look for food and my son and only found one of those things, but I’ve been thinking,” Josephine explains. “Johan in the hands of a Speedwagon should be okay, and while I’d really like to have our little reunion sooner rather than later, I really want to deal with the ‘Sarde is a bastard’ problem sooner rather than later.” She sighs and plops herself down on the bench next to them. “We have a few big problems. The first is that several of the Standsassins Sarde was supposed to have dealt with are still alive. I got attacked by that fractal guy with all the eyes…”

“The User of Lateralus?” Josuke frowns.

“That’s the one.” She perks up before simmering back down again. “If that guy’s still around then Sarde didn’t betray us recently. He’d been planning that for a while.”

“I’m not sure how he could have managed fooling them all, unless…” There’s a thought. An unwelcome one, to be sure, but it’s better to know than be in the ignorant dark. “Enigma probably has powers we don’t know.”

“If he was planning on betraying us all, why should he tell us everything he was capable of?” Josephine grumbles. She kicks her feet childishly, ignoring the stares from passersby. “Second, with guys of that caliber around I really don’t want our little hunt to include Johan, a guy not born with a Stand. According to that story Uncle Kakyoin tells, it took Cous fifty days for him to even figure out he could stop time. I’m not waiting that long, and I’m not possibly putting my little boy against assassins who’ve been doing this fifty years, even if he is strong and a Joestar. That being said, Cous needs to hurry up and find them because I don’t like the sound of this Stand User murderer either.”

Josuke sighs. “I get your point, but Stand Users attract other Stand Users. I’m not sure we’ll be that lucky.”

“Well, we gotta hope that attraction includes my nephew.” No matter how often he says that he’ll still feel weird saying it. “And probably Hol Horse and Koichi.”

Okuyasu finally speaks up again. He’s been thinking. “Sarde was also following you, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response but keeps talking slowly. “That means that he shoulda seen whatever else was following you, so all we gotta do is find and beat the shit outta Sarde until he talks.”

“That’s the plan,” Josephine agrees cheerfully.


	9. Golden Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Giorno prepare for their little 'field trip'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if Connor just doesn’t exist in this universe or if Buffy just doesn’t know about him. That whole arc was frankly terrible tbh.  
> ~Dreamer~

They agree to meet outside—Giorno has a person to contact, and Buffy has to pack a few things—specifically, her magic stealth knife and some food in her belly considering she has no idea how long this’ll take. It’s a little awkward, him wanting to do something without her after the comment about teamwork, but it’s probably hard for mob bosses to break their inclinations to secrecy. She’s got her super strength and other than the whole ‘son of vampire’ thing Giorno probably has a Stand. Which is probably called Gold Experience, and has something to do with bringing things to life. They might be set, but she really, really doesn’t like these Wolfram & Hart characters and would prefer to have some kind of extra something along, like a security blanket. She’d go for Mr. Pointy, but that only works on vampires and she’s pretty sure W&H isn’t all vamps. And it’d probably be in character for clients of Wolfram & Hart to just be carrying around weapons, right?

…Buffy has to be honest, her sense of reality is probably skewed. Carrying around some kind of medieval weapon is normal to her and her fifteen year old self would’ve seen her as one of those loser kids.

On one hand, there are probably measures to keep an eye on her if she leaves. If it wasn’t working in her favor, she’d suggest the witches put up some kind of surveillance spells or security spells or _something._ On the other hand, she’s been sneaking out since she was fifteen. It’s part of why she’s so good at catching Dawn—she knows all the tricks.

“Where are you going?” That’s…some timing. Apparently the same works in reverse.

“All this sitting around isn’t my style, Dawnie. I’m gonna go actually do something. I would appreciate if you wouldn’t tell on me—and yeah, I’ll have people watching my back.” This is a whole lot of nostalgia right here, isn’t it?

“The hot blond dude? You sure it’ll be your back he’s watching?” Dawn asks, grinning, and Buffy finds herself getting flustered—just like what Dawn’s going for. Just like when they were kids.

“He’s related to Xander, and he’s younger than me, I’m pretty sure. I mean, he acts all mature and stuff but it’s kind of an act, you know?” Never mind the fact that he’s part vamp and she can feel it. At this point, dating a vampire would be easier because she’s gotten used to her skin crawling, but her senses can tell her that this isn’t something she’s used to and it’s not background noise.

“Oh yeah, that first one still bothers you huh?” Her sister’s grinning really widely at that. “Well, all the better. I can seduce the powerful ally for once.”

Buffy sighs. It’s about equal parts serious and just to bug her, which is why it’s even worse. “Sis, if you promise not to flirt too much with the half-vampire crime lord, I can bribe you with something when I get back. Just like old times.”

The younger Summers pretends to consider before she smiles sweetly. “That sounds acceptable. Off with you.”

It’s just about as easy to get out as she expected, even if she did kind of have to crawl out that window. 

She’s merely walking down the street when another falls in line with her. Fortunately, she manages to avoid from punching him because she recognizes that familiar feeling of not-vampire. 

“For future reference, scaring a Slayer isn’t recommended,” she tells him, because even if she’s figured it out doesn’t mean others won’t break a rib on instinct alone.

Giorno hums in response. “Noted.” The amusement in his voice says that he doesn’t find it very frightening, but is humoring her all the same. “Tell me, is there a good way to tell Vampire Slayers apart?”

“Usually vampires can feel us, if they’re smart and pay attention, but I’m not sure how it would work for you. I’ve never met the son of a vampire before.” She shrugs. “It’s pretty easy to tell a Slayer from the fact that she’s got super strength, but you’d either have to get into a fight with her or watch her fight.”

“I probably haven’t met a Vampire Slayer either, then.” Giorno sounds confident, but there’s a hint of uncertainty that his ego won’t let him really show. “I’ll tell you a little about the subordinate we’re meeting, but first I have a request. Don’t tell the others about him.”

That puts her on edge. It could just be a Mafia Boss thing, but she can’t imagine keeping something like this from Jotaro. She likes his no-nonsense, get things done attitude, in contrast to Giles and Willow, who are still wringing their hands and urging caution. Plus, Jotaro isn’t looking at her like she’s totally incompetent. “Did they uninvite him to their houses, then?”

That quick glance shows that he gets some sort of reference, even if his information may not be as thorough as he’d like, if he doesn’t even fully know how Slayers work. “There’s nothing wrong with him specifically, but he had…chosen the wrong side, before. Hol Horse is another such Stand User, and he’s known to the Foundation.”

She’s thinking about it, and maybe it’s reading guys like Giles and Jotaro, but there’s something almost…distasteful about his tone? “Don’t like him?”

Giorno breathes out deeply. “In my line of work, I don’t often have the luxury of _liking_ the people I work with.” That honesty hits her, because it’s the least vague, most straightforward thing he’s probably been. Even when he was being honest to get her to trust him, he’d been carefully choosing what to tell her, how to get the outcome he wanted. Allowing himself to be honest like this might be calculated, but this feels genuine. Then he smiles, warm and sunny and maybe a little mischievous. “Of course, this time I’m lucky. You’re _Cugino_ Johan’s _famiglia elettiva_ , so I might actually enjoy this time.”

“Well, you’ve got the charm down,” Buffy responds, hoping that this third person is at least tolerable, no matter how little Giorno’s looking forward to working with him.


	10. Transformation Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Giorno prepare for their little 'field trip' and are joined by a third member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: unbeta'd because I actually wrote it early for once and then forgot to send it out and then spent half the day sleeping because apparently I'm sick. yare yare  
> beta!senpai pointed out this character would be perfect for this chapter and I was annoyed because I actually skipped those episodes in anime & only skimmed in manga but I can't argue; he was right.  
> finally edited

“You know, it’s not nice talking about people behind their back,” a voice scolds them as if it had been part of the conversation all along. “Do you think it’s worth a little extra?”

Giorno doesn’t verbally respond, at least not immediately, but the open body language instantly disappears with what feels like a snap, like a mussel closing its shell.

She turns a little to see a really tall guy has joined them, matching their pace exactly. He’s as tall as Jotaro, and the outfit isn’t dissimilar, either—a hat entirely sideways, a long coat—even if it is a brighter color than white—similar pants…she’s pretty sure Jotaro would never wear a t-shirt, though. The man isn’t Japanese, either…probably Middle Eastern judging by his looks.

“This is Oingo. He already knows the answer to his question due to the power of his brother, Boingo, which can within a limited scope predict the future.” Yes, she’s pretty sure Giorno’s annoyed, even if it’s barely showing in his voice. “Oingo, this is Signorina Summers. She’s the one we’ll be working with that I mentioned.”

She doesn’t like the smirk, either, and knows exactly why. “Thoth was right. She’s pretty enough Hol Horse is probably jealous.”

“If you’re merely going to disrespect our ally like this, perhaps you don’t deserve that apology.” The usually gentle-toned voice is ice-cold, and for the first time Buffy senses she’s seeing clearly the ruthless crime lord. 

Oingo laughs. “All right, all right! Maybe this will help change your mind, then. I have some information that you might find useful if you’re going to be allying yourselves with the Joestars.” He pauses for effect, and that icy aura doesn’t change. “I’ve heard the Users of Sobek and Apophis are active again.”

Giorno stops walking entirely, still. “I was under the impression that there were only nine Egyptian Gods.”

“There were only nine in Egypt. DIO had a few Stand Users doing work for him all around the world. I don’t know much about their powers, but I have heard they always work together.”

“Are they working for Wolfram & Hart?” Giorno asks, the tone gone. The thoughtful look on his face probably means he’s attempting to determine a strategy.

“The rumors didn’t mention that, but with Khnum, even if they are they won’t bother us.” That’s practically jinxing them, but maybe the rules are different in the world of the Stands?

“I would appreciate it if you would largely remain silent. Despite your ability, I don’t believe your strength is subtlety.” He continues sternly, and despite the words she gets the feeling it’s actually a command.

“Okay, Boss,” Oingo agrees.

Giorno seems to consider that a definitive end to the conversation and resumes his pace, addressing his next words to Buffy. “We will have to change outfits, as Khnum does not change those. I have a few approved by Trish. A suit is probably the best choice.” 

“Girlfriend?” Buffy responds, curious about how human this man acts, and the man shakes his head.

“Just a friend. A singer.” The voice is fond but not in that way.

“I will have to act in ways I don’t mean. I apologize in advance.” Oingo’s walk falters a little, so apparently ‘Don Giovanna’ apologizing is unusual. Then again, he hadn’t done so when she’d told him about Angel, so perhaps that was easy to see, after all.

“I am going to act as the Capo Capperi. The two of you are my bodyguards. Capperi would easily betray me if he thought he could get rid of me. Struffoli is most likely his lover, his personal assistant, and also his fixer. It is unknown whether she has a Stand, given that the one who gave many Passione members Stands died and didn’t leave much in the way of records. All we have observed is her using a weapon and her fists, so you should be all right on that front.” At least he’s being thorough but not condescending. 

“Does she mostly use a gun?” Buffy asks, concerned, and blue eyes glance over to stare at her, evaluate her body language and determine what she’s thinking.

“You have had a bad experience with a gun. True, she largely does use guns, but she’s been known to use a knife, so you’ll be fine,” Giorno replies, reassuring, and turns toward a building.

Two of the rooms have clothing in them (which look relatively new, which is a good thing because she wouldn’t like to wear clothes as old as the building even for undercover work), and at least Giorno pulls Oingo away to let her change on her own.

She does end up going for the suit, because while some of the other outfits are pretty (and others are downright strange), most aren’t as practical for fighting. It takes a little while to find one that fits, and it’s not perfect.

“Are you ready?” a voice calls politely. Giorno.

“Yes, I’m dressed,” she calls back, and the mob boss enters, and…

Honestly, he looks really weird in normal clothes. He’s also wearing shoes with a bit of height, which is good because the lack of height just might give him away. Even if he might be in his late teens by the looks of it, he still hasn’t had the same growth spurt as the rest of his family. The expression is similar, though, as he looks her over, frowning. Eventually he sighs. “It’d be better if we could do this in Italy. The fact that the suit isn’t tailored might be suspicious, but there’s little we can do about it now. I don’t know any discreet tailors in England, though I might have to look into it after this…”

“I can always just say I skinned the guy who did this atrocity if anyone asks,” Buffy responds brightly.

Giorno blinks twice, then nods, a slight smirk on his face. “True. I’m curious what the real Struffoli would do should the rumor reach her ears.” He gets serious again. “The last step in this process involves Khnum disguising us. It will involve a lot of touching of your face. If there was another way, I’d take it, but I don’t know of a Stand User who could accomplish the same thing.”

“I know several witches, but they’d probably not agree to help and/or would tell on us, so…” the Slayer shrugs. “It’s okay.”

They rejoin Oingo, who is also wearing a suit and also looks kind of ridiculous pretending to be a normal-ish person. “Here are the pictures of Capperi and Struffoli. It doesn’t much matter who you disguise yourself as, and in fact it would probably be better if you just change your appearance to something innocuous, since you’re not supposed to be very talkative.” Giorno produces two sleepy baby snakes from the pocket of his usual clothes, which turn into photographs. He hands them over to Oingo, who without saying anything reaches out and starts stretching her face. It feels…weird. Rubbery. Like he’s working with clay, or pizza dough. Eventually he lets go and it snaps into place, and that _definitely_ feels weird. She reaches up to feel her face, and it’s definitely not her face—a sharper face, maybe, with a longer nose and pointier chin and…it’s _weird_.

Oingo moves on to Giorno, who also ends up almost unrecognizable. It even changes his hair to a short black style. Giorno gives a goofy little nervous wave once Oingo moves on to himself, and Buffy stifles the giggle as she waves back.


	11. Deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Giorno, and another Stand User finally visit the Wolfram & Hart offices.

Giorno pulls out a ring and a necklace from the striped suit and offers the necklace casually to her. After she accepts it, he slips the finger on his own hand. Buffy feels a shiver up her spine. It shouldn’t be all that odd. He might’ve just bought it, just like he’d obviously bought the clothes, but it still feels…

“Are these actually Capperi’s and Struffoli’s?” she asks, slightly nervous, and not even her voice is her own, which startles her. Khnum does work but it’s so much stranger than any of the other Stands she’s dealt with. She hasn’t even seen it, partially seethrough or not, and if they hadn’t insisted it was a Stand she’d wonder if it wasn’t some other power but they just see everything in terms of Stands. (Maybe it is. It’s really hard to be sure, here.) The expression he turns on her in response is carefully blank.

“Yes. It pays to have insurance, so to speak.” His tone is also blank, and the shiver remains. It’s not his own voice, either, but she can still tell it’s him—something about the deliberate way he speaks, maybe. Okay, she can see the scary mob boss from all those movies Dawn was obsessed with.

Oingo has made his face look vaguely look like Karloff’s rendition of Frankenstein’s monster (she would’ve said Frankenstein if not for Giles’ long lecture about it the one time they’d made that mistake) and he’s tall enough it works for him. He looks close enough to human that he can walk down the street and not be stopped, but he’d fit right in with the Wolfram & Hart crowd too. Probably.

Giorno—no, Capperi—tilts his head slightly to the side, standing easily on one foot. “I think you look like a Guanciale. I’ll introduce you as such.”

Oingo, or Guanciale, grunts, and Giorno—‘Capperi’—nods approvingly. “That will do.” He turns back to Buffy—Struffoli—again.

“Given that no one has confirmed their status, if she is his lover they are not demonstrative, so you aren’t required to treat me as anything other than your boss. Struffoli is certainly prone to violence, as you guessed, but she also acts entirely as a _gentildonna_. A _femme fatale_ , in other words. That’s easy enough to keep yourself in character. As for Capperi, there are rumors that he employs the undead or has some sort of Stand involving the undead. He is a _capo_ —ah, that’s right, I mentioned it before, but did not explain the term—lieutenant, I suppose—in charge of activities in Tuscany.” Giorno’s more expressive, at least with his hands. He’s usually fairly still, but not here.

“You said that Capperi would betray—er, Don Giovanna. But what does he have to offer to Wolfram & Hart?” she asks, trying to mimic the hand gestures a little, and he nods approvingly.

“You’ll see,” he responds, and—yeah, that’s definitely smug. “Is there anything else you wish to know at this time?”

“It probably would make sense if I’d insisted on a shopping spree to celebrate the deal you’re about to make, wouldn’t it?” Buffy—no, she needs to know and remember the name ‘Struffoli’, if she’s going to answer to it.

Giorno—no, ‘Capperi’—inclines his head, appearing pleased, and waits to see if she has anything else to say. When she does not, he states firmly, “It is time to go make our introductions.”

He walks slightly slower, probably trying to fit his middle-aged image, and ‘Struffoli’ and ‘Guanciale’ fall in line behind him.

The building itself appears like an average fancy attorney’s office (according to what she knows from watching shows anyway). Fancy columns, fancy materials, fancy everything. Buffy—‘Struffoli’—doesn’t stare. She—the other she, her character—has seen these things a thousand times and isn’t easily impressed by such things. They walk in with confidence and directly to the reception desk, ignoring the waiting chairs entirely. “My name is Capperi. If you tell your higher-ups, I’m sure that they will see the importance of a meeting.” Rather than sitting, ‘Capperi’ waits, standing, by the desk.

The receptionist looks distinctly uncomfortable, but goes ahead and makes the call anyway. The rest of the people waiting glare and mumble in their direction until ‘Guanciale’ giggles menacingly, at which point they all quiet and do their best to not even glance in their direction.

“Signor Capperi, sorry for the wait,” a voice smoothly joins them. “I am Sawyer; this is Francis. We would’ve prepared for your coming had we known you were planning to visit.”

“Any communication to warn you of the possibility could have been intercepted,” ‘Capperi’ responds haughtily. “I suggest any further talk wait until we are alone.”

“Very good, sir,” Francis agrees. “Follow us to our office.”

They do; ‘Struffoli’ and ‘Guanciale’ trailing after ‘Capperi’ as if they’ve been doing it all their lives. ‘Capperi’ makes himself comfortable in the chair as if it belongs to him. As if all of this belongs to him. Buffy—‘Struffoli’—makes an executive decision and also sits. ‘Guanciale’ stands behind ‘Capperi’s’ chair, laughing creepily to himself. ‘Capperi’ pokes ‘Guanciale’ with an elbow, and he quiets.

Francis settles behind the desk, while Sawyer stands, twitchy and awkward. (Maybe he’s ready to grab whatever paperwork might be needed, or maybe he’s just nervous?) “I would like to make it known that it is a great honor to have you in our office, Signor Capperi, but I have to ask—is there a particular reason you’ve come to one of our England offices?”

‘Capperi’ responds instantly. “All of your known offices in Italy are being watched, and Struffoli wanted to compare the shopping experience in London and Roma.”

“It doesn’t match the experience in Italy, of course, and _these_ …” ‘Struffoli’ raises one thin, dark eyebrow at her jacket sleeve, “…are subpar. Your tailors don’t even know how to do a proper fitting,” she adds with a smirk, channeling her inner Queen Cordy as much as possible. “Perhaps you might have a few suggestions?”

Sawyer pales a little. “Of—of course, Signora Struffoli.”

“The proposal I bring is clear enough, but I want to be very explicit, as I know you care about such things. I’m sick of serving under a little shit. I want my due, and I know we can make a mutually beneficial arrangement. I want Wolfram & Hart to help me take over Passione, and in return I can bring work and end the harassment of your employees in Italy.” ‘Capperi’…sounds vicious and power-hungry and is even _more_ expressive with his hands.

Sawyer smiles, still twitchy. “It will be a relief for our Italian offices to be able to operate again. You might not be aware, but your previous Boss had an arrangement with Wolfram & Hart.”

“Previous Boss?” ‘Capperi’ asks, sounding surprised, and Francis looks sympathetic.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Giovanna claimed he had been the Boss the entire time, but if he’s human he’s too young, and Passione started operating very differently. Changing our contact is one thing, but changing the entire way they do business…that’s something different.”

“Used to be a shy, squirrely little dude. Wasn’t assertive until one of us made a crack about him failing his Boss. Cracked McNamara’s head wide open. Haven’t seen him in a while, though. Pretty much the same time as the operation changed.” Sawyer’s one to be talking about ‘squirrely’, but given his words, maybe shy doesn’t work as a descriptor for him.

“So you don’t think that girl is his daughter,” ‘Capperi’ states thoughtfully.

“They look absolutely nothing alike,” Francis curls a lip in scorn.

‘Capperi’ hums and doesn’t respond.

“You know something,” Sawyer suggests, and ‘Capperi’ just smiles.


	12. Youthful Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno has a story to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, unbeta'd. Inspired by a misconception of some jojo reactors and I was like: "that Stand sounds useful and interesting, I can use this"  
> Next Thursday or Friday I should know and be able to post whether you're getting a chapter next week.  
> Last names are made up because I'm pretty sure they weren't actually given anything official.  
> ~dreamer~

“You may be right about a new Don. I’d certainly like to think I haven’t been taking orders from a brat that young all this time,” ‘Capperi’ sneers. It’s honestly a little odd to be hearing this, because Giorno is talking about himself. From the point of view of one of his subordinates, and no one’s batting an eye at him talking like this about his boss. The guy really _doesn’t_ like or respect him, does he?

“But you have reason to believe otherwise,” Francis suggests.

“Stories of the Fountain of Youth began, at least in writing, around the fifth century BC in the writings of Herodotus. It was said to be located in the land of Macrobians.” They all stare at ‘Capperi’. Where is he going with this? “Alexander the Great likewise traveled in search of this Water of Life. In 1513, during the Age of Exploration, Spanish conquistador Juan Ponce de León traveled to the New World following a charter suggesting he look for a specific part of the world, and spent some time searching for a mythical island said to contain the Fountain of Youth or a river with similar attributes. Other than just transforming various items into gold, the alchemical focus called the Philosopher’s Stone was thought to also have this property. The Holy Grail is believed to have healing abilities and confer immortality, and many quests over the years including, supposedly, by King Arthur’s knights, have also sought to find this holy object. In July 1890, the story _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ , written by Oscar Wilde, was published. The story depicts an aristocrat whose portrait ages while he does not.” The story is interesting and accompanied by many gestures. When ‘Capperi’ finally finishes, he sits back, appearing pleased with himself, and the rest just stare, unsure of what he’s talking about. ‘Struffoli’ does her best to try to appear unimpressed with this, too, like she knows where it’s going.

“That’s a fascinating story, Signor Capperi, but what does it have to do with Passione’s Boss?” Sawyer finally asks, voicing everyone’s thoughts. It’s emphasized by ‘Guanciale’ laughing again ominously.

“I can tell you what the Don’s Stand does,” ‘Capperi’ states smugly, enjoying the shock in the room.

‘Guanciale’s’ laugh trails off, leaving only an ominous silence. Francis and Sawyer lean forward, fascinated. “I thought you weren’t a Stand User,” Sawyer replies eventually, stunned.

“My spies know their work,” ‘Capperi’ replies proudly. It’s clever, because he doesn’t say either way what he is, specifically. “They could not entirely confirm the news, given that they are not Stand Users, but, assuming that it _is_ the same Don it’s very likely. They reported that the Don, Giovanni’s, Stand steals life, and that’s why he seems so young. Several of his enemies have been found dead, seemingly of old age, and it’s likely but unconfirmed he was there. It’s difficult to prove the power of a Stand without fighting it, of course, especially for one desiring to keep their power secret like the Don.”

“That’s an interesting theory, but if so, why would he plant hints otherwise?” Francis asks.

“That’s where this gets interesting,” ‘Capperi’ laces his fingers together briefly. “Pretending that he’s new at this was a trap for his enemies, just like the appearance of Trish Una. The girl likely isn’t even his daughter. At the first sign of weakness, his enemies, what is the expression, crawled out of the woodwork.”

Francis and Sawyer exchange a glance, and Buffy—sorry, ‘Struffoli’ is pretty sure that that’s the moment they actually start to believe. “We haven’t heard anything about this.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t well known outside Passione, but we all heard about what happened to the Hitman Team,” ‘Capperi’s’ voice is solemn. “They crossed the Don once and only lost two of their members; a reprieve based on the idea that they’d never try again.”

“Sorbet Affini and Gelato Mazza. Yes, we’d heard, and suspected we knew who was responsible. Their work had been seen before,” Francis is thoughtful now, flipping through a few files with interest. 

“But they tried again, flushed out by the promise of the so-called daughter of the Don, and the result? Not a single member of the squad emerged alive. Cioccolata Fausti and Secco Guttoso also attempted to seize power, and look what happened to them.”

“Your theory makes sense,” Francis agrees quietly, glancing at something on the desk. “Apparently the doctor, Fausti, was it?, was put on trial for malpractice and the prosecution kept trying to bump that to murder. We weren’t able to save his reputation, but…”

“…One of the Italian branches managed to make sure he wasn’t in prison for it, merely disbarred,” ‘Capperi’ finishes understandingly. “I did wonder how that was managed, even if the courts were bribed. The notoriety alone made the case a difficult one, I’m sure, and the elderly being involved made public sympathies get involved.”

“You weren’t aware of any of this?” ‘Struffoli’ asks judgingly, channeling Cordy completely.

“Our knowledge of recent events in Italy is a trifle haphazard, given both Passione and a new variety of vampires that slaughtered one of our offices. Of course, the vampires are no longer a threat—probably had gotten on the wrong side of another of the groups operating in the area,” Francis explains, looking embarrassed—as is right.

“I see.” The words are neutral, but the tone is criticizing. ‘Capperi’ reaches over to squeeze her shoulder proudly.

“I can’t predict the Don’s thoughts, but the changes have led to different relations with the Speedwagon Foundation and the Watcher’s Council. Though perhaps the changes are also to determine the loyal from the so-called ‘traitors’.” Clever, using something that is completely factual.

“If this is all true…then it means you’re falling into the trap.” Sawyer points out, frowning.

“I know it’s there,” ‘Capperi’ replies simply. “And rumor has it that you are capable of much and gained something useful from an auction in Napoli.”

The two exchange glances. “Yes. We have a number of weapons that we can put at your disposal for the right price.”

‘Struffoli’ leans forward, interest piqued. “Weapons, you say.”


	13. Over the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Giorno and Buffy learn more without giving away their real identities?

“Yes, weapons. We’d be happy to show you what we have available—we are proud of our extra services available to our clients, and for those of our clients who are alive we’d be happy to help you remain so (though we don’t discriminate and should you die we will be happy to continue to offer you our services),” Sawyer smiles. “If you’d care to follow me.”

“I have some calls to make,” Francis states ominously. Hopefully the phone call isn’t to the real ‘Capperi’…or either of them have telepathy. That would be of the bad.

‘Capperi’ stands imperiously, and this time ‘Struffoli’ moves to his side. She earns a small, if creepy, smile. At least if she meets this real ‘Capperi’ he can beat him up, and everything she’s learned about Giorno says that he won’t try anything, unlike ‘Guanciale’, who’s constrained by the nature of his role. Of course, he’s probably just a creep, not like Warren, but still, it’s genius. ‘Capperi’ thinks of everything, doesn’t he? And she doesn’t have to fake the impressed smile. That’s real.

They follow the quiet lawyer down the hallway. It starts as your average office hallway and, as they get to the parts of the building that the normal clients don’t get to see, morphs into claustrophobic, creepy corridors.

“I know why you’re really here,” Sawyer remarks, just in time for maximum spookage, and fortunately Buffy has great Slayer reflexes or she would’ve flinched at that one. ‘Capperi’ merely raises a single eyebrow, cool as anything. “You learned of the fact that we’ve obtained an Arrow. I won’t tell you how many Stand Users we’ve created loyal to our interests (and yours, given your offer of alliance), but we have enough to, at the very least, make Passione think twice about their current trajectory. Those who already exist have also been given very generous offers.”

“True, I’d heard of the failure of one of Giovanna’s agents, on his very doorstep, no less. We opened a special-edition _grappa_ in her honor.” There’s a special maliciousness in ‘Capperi’s’ eyes now. ‘Struffoli’ matches it with a smirk, and ‘Guanciale’ gives his best cackle.

“Well, we don’t stop at mere ancient weaponry,” the lawyer continues—so he might not put them within grab reach of the Arrow. Probably a wise precaution. “For our most discerning clientele, we have gathered a weapons inventory from around the world, as well as the best designers. In this laboratory—” he waves to a room with glassware and cubbies with glass in the front and a few people in lab coats and a few people who are probably guards. He’s falling completely into the tour guide role now.

“Oh, hullo, Sawyer. Inspection time again?” A kind-looking older gentleman straightens, sweating a little. Buffy’s instincts indicate he’s not here willingly. There’s another guy, younger, babbling about chemistry things she doesn’t understand—here because the challenge interests, probably, and the woman holds her hand up, cutting him off—greed for power, pay. Both of which, Angel, she thinks with a small pang, had assured her Wolfram & Hart had in spades. As befits a deal with a devil, they’re incredible at offering just what they’d need to draw you in.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s not near high enough in the hierarchy for that, chill.” One of the guards is probably from California, and he’s far too amused by this.

“You’ve still got time,” his London counterpart agrees, hanging off him.

“Well, this lady has questions about your work, and specifically your results,” Sawyer smiles smugly, introducing her. “Struffoli.”

“Ah, well, we’re working on new compounds that catch fire,” the kind man explains, mopping at his brow. He opens his mouth to say something else, but doesn’t get the chance. 

“What are you doing?” the female scientist asks suspiciously, interrupting. ‘Struffoli’s’ heart can’t take all these near-discoveries, but it turns out she’s not addressing them at all.

The guards have begun fighting. “They’re going to fire someone, and if they do, it should be you,” the London one says with all seriousness, as if something had actually led to this.

“I saw you steal my paycheck!” the probable Californian accuses, like they’ve been having this argument for several minutes, despite having gotten along less than a minute ago. This isn’t normal; this is Hellmouthy, but question is, is it the kind of Hellmouthy thing ‘Struffoli’ can fight? ‘Capperi’s’ stance has grown more tense, so he’s probably getting ready to fight, too. Sawyer, meanwhile, is glancing between the two cautiously, as if this is a tennis match he can’t quite get.

“Yeah, but that was for a birthday surprise! But you never appreciate—” The British guard trails off, as the American turns away from him. “Don’t you walk away from me!” He throws out a hand and breaks one of the glass vials on his sleeve. It starts burning and he shrieks.

“If you’ve got to have your lover’s spat, take it elsewhere,” the female scientist sniffs.

“No, not water, smothering. This is a compound that is flammable on contact with oxygen,” the older man starts explaining, while the curious one starts quickly taking off his lab coat—to help with the smothering of the fire, maybe?

Simultaneously, Sawyer swears under his breath. “Bollocks, it’s another possession case.” He moves toward a button on the wall, but shuffles backward to avoid touching the skin of the body lurching awkwardly toward him. Given the behavior involved, ‘Struffoli’ has to agree—the resemblance is uncanny if it _isn’t_ a possession case.

The Californian guard has started shuffling past, face blank. His eyes are slightly clouded, misty.

And he pulls the dangling lever. The pressure drenches him, but he doesn’t let go. It’s certainly coming down in more of a deluge than she’d expect from a shower.

“Let go! You could flood the laboratory! It doesn’t help with this fire!” she yells at him and tries to pry his hand open. He doesn’t even budge.

And then all of the building’s sprinklers go off too, and that’s when ‘Struffoli’s’ vague danger sense rather than just bugging her a little about it start screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chemical in this chapter could be referring to several chemicals, such as Pentaborane-9. Whatever it was, it was a known one that they had in the lab for reference purposes.


	14. Lost Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes wrong.

“Graham, get our guests and the scientists to safety—all but the woman; we don’t know if it’s touch-contagious,” at which point she looks outraged and probably scared. “I’ll try to do what I can, or at least seal off the research wing,” the lawyer orders.

That’s probably not good—or maybe, like Andrew, this guy is better in a crisis than when interacting with people. Still, he’s suddenly both competent and aware and it might be a good thing they’re splitting up, unless his earlier reactions were a bluff to put them at ease, maybe get them to reveal something.

“Follow me,” the London guard whose name they now know to be Graham tells them. The two remaining scientists do so without question, probably part of their training.

‘Guanciale’ grunts, but if it had been meant as a warning, they already knew. They’ve lost control of the situation, and if they do end up following the guard, who knows where they’ll end up, or whether they’ll be able to get out when they get there…

There’s a shuddering sound in the ceiling a normal human probably wouldn’t have heard, and she instantly tackles ‘Capperi’. It’s lucky that her reflexes are as fast as they are, because she moves just in time. One of the pipes in the ceiling bursts, letting out a torrent of water that carries them down the hall. ‘Guanciale’, the guard, and the scientists aren’t with them. Buffy blinks as she sees an eyeball float past her and stifles hysterical laughter. The absurd thought popped into her head that someone needed to ‘keep an eye on things’. She fights off the sudden wish for Xander, Johan, whatever he’s calling himself, to have been here, to make that joke. Maybe Dawn—the two always shared a sense of humor, after all, or maybe that’d been her sister trying to get her crush to notice her. Buffy herself would only voice that thought if she could get Giles to clean his glasses because of it… Clearly she’s a little bit in shock. She needs to concentrate on the important things—such as, for example, the sudden suspicion that had caused the argument between the two guards. This might, in fact, be proof that the spell had been Wolfram & Hart’s, but why would they use it on their own? What did they gain by such an action? If the source had really been the chalice, then how was it acting now? And if it hadn’t been that stupid chalice, why would Giles bother lying to her about it? He could’ve just said he hadn’t found the source yet, and had an easier lie to believe? Or perhaps, since its domain seems to be deception, perhaps the spell had managed to pull one even over such an expert on magic as her ex-Watcher? She’s fairly certain she’s not wrong, now that she knows what she’s looking for. The sudden paranoia is a little obvious of a tell, once you’re finally looking for it.

And then she sees a ghostly figure covering ‘Capperi’s’ skin, even as he clings to a doorway. “I would generally dislike using my power in such an environment but I can think of no other way to discuss the situation with some possibility of remaining unheard. We must retrieve dear ‘Guanciale’ or we will never retrieve our faces.”

Buffy nods a little, treading water as best she can, to indicate she’s heard and understood. The fact that she could vaguely see Stands without having one herself is a concept that Kakyoin found fascinating, though as far as she knows no one’s asked the other Slayers if they’ve experienced that too. It’s been really busy.

And then ‘Capperi’ smiles faintly at her. “It is said that dolphins commonly save drowning victims. If our luck holds, the same will prove to be the case now.” He finishes speaking through his Stand and has it disappear—but not before turning the doorway into a dolphin. It chirps at him and propels itself with a powerful tail-flip back further into the corridor.

Unfortunately, when it returns, it’s bringing the guard. It chirps and then leaves again, presumably to get the others. ‘Capperi’ glances at him dismissively and sighs. Then he reaches out and touches the man’s shoe as he tries to scramble upright, and he screams and falls.

“Perhaps your American colleague relayed this sentiment from the pre-revolutionary American days: ‘don’t tread on me’.” ‘Struffoli’ glances down and sees that the shoe had turned into a coral-like organism, just as he’d attempted to stand. She glances over at ‘Capperi’ and raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow (sure, ‘Stroffoli’ was prettier, but like a Barbie; she preferred being herself though this wasn’t bad to try out for the time being). He smiles just slightly. “ _Toxopneustes pileolus_. Also known as the Flower Urchin, a rather beautiful name for a rather terrifying creature. The toxins cause comas and the formation of clots. Very painful, or so I’m told, but presuming he gets the correct treatment, he will live.” The sea urchin slowly turns back into a shoe.

“You are terrifying,” she tells him, and casually reaches over to choke the curious scientist into unconsciousness rather than hitting him on the head (apparently head injuries can be a whole lot worse for normal humans without the Slayer healing, who knew). Usually, she’d be a little more conflicted about attacking a person who is, ostensibly, human, even if they are working for a firm like Wolfram & Hart. She still has some rage about what they’d tricked Angel into, of course, and if she thinks about it she’s saving this guy from an attack by a very venomous sea creature, so when thought about along those lines, really, she’s doing him a favor.

That gets a definite grin in return. “Thank you for your kind words. I believe the same could be said about you.”

Finally, _finally_ , the dolphin returns with the correct person, and both ‘Capperi’ and ‘Struffoli’ turn to ‘Guanciale’.

It’s ‘Struffoli’ who voices what they’re both thinking. “Took you long enough.”


	15. Own Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Giorno, and Oingo make their escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giorno is not actually flirting here. It being Giorno, you'll never tell the difference.  
> ~Dreamer~

Buffy doesn’t want to jinx their escape by saying it was easy, but she’ll go as far as to say it was easier than expected. Giorno can summon a baffling array of dangerous animals from boa constrictors to komodo dragons (apparently they have a very dangerous bite—“scientists argue whether sepsis, venom, or just large jaws and blood loss are the cause, but for my purposes I just know that they’re extremely effective”, he explains as they run). The thought that he could be a demented version of a Disney Princess flashes through her head, and she does her best to keep the hysterical laughter in, because that sort of thing makes it easy to mess up when fighting. Interestingly, he also suggests that they also stay out of the way of his creatures as make their way to a different entrance than the one they came in.

“You don’t have control?” Buffy asks, a little surprised, and if she’s not wrong the twitch of the lips into a small smile is…sheepish?

“I would have to have them summoned for a lot longer than this for me to earn any loyalty. They’re merely acting in their own interests, as life is known to do.” That’s a weakness, but then, of course, his power had to have some type of weakness. He’s speaking quietly from his summoned Stand again, probably wanting to prevent others from overhearing things like that, which makes sense.

Oingo’s Stand isn’t much help in combat, but the guy himself is strong. He punches out a few of the guards on the way out, and Buffy has to admit, for everything else that’s wrong with him, at least he’s useful in a fight.

She stabs a few guards, the ones she’s sure aren’t human, and carefully uses her Slayer strength on the others. Oingo sticks closer to her, worried about her restraint maybe, until she threatens to trip him and he finally starts to keep his distance.

They return to the place they’d stashed their clothes, and Oingo gets his own face fixed first, then hers. “Both faces are pretty, but this one suits you better, I think,” he states, and—well, it’s a little weird, but it’s a lot less creepy than other things he’d said in the past. Even her clothes are untouched, in perfect condition.

When she joins Giorno, whose face is back to the late teens or early twenties she’d gotten to know, she looks wistfully at ‘Struffoli’s’ clothes. “I would advise you not wear this one again, to avoid drawing attention to our mission but I can arrange for a replacement, or at least get the money to you. Or, if you prefer, Trish or I could accompany you.”

There’s a couple of things to unpack from that invitation. One, that he’d even noticed. His suit, this time, is an almost exact duplication of his old one, only orange, and he’d been fiddling with his green ladybug brooches, fixing them almost fussily, not even looking at her. She picks the one that stands out the most. Xander was alternatively either _too_ interested (eww) or bored out of his skull (literally, once). “You wouldn’t mind shopping for clothes?”

Giorno shrugs, but there’s a hint of pride in his voice as he replies. The hand gestures she’d gotten used to have disappeared entirely. “Italy is the land of Gucci, Versace, Armani…and that’s only a few. Anyone can care about fashion and looking good—and there’s a statement, power, in looking your best. It would be my honor to aid you in this.”

“You keep using the term _famiglia elettiva_. What does it mean?” she asks, and then notices she doesn’t notice Oingo anymore. Apparently he’d left—or been ordered elsewhere.

“In English, it would be…chosen family? _Cugino_ Johan views you as his family, as does Signor Kujo, and he’s difficult to impress. So am I, for that matter.” 

Buffy finds herself blushing, just a little. She’s not used to straightforward compliments like this. Of course, it’s still a little roundabout, but it’s still bluntly honest. Jotaro is like that too, a little, but on the order of a very rare comment here and there. And, well, especially after what’s been happening recently, it’s nice to hear. “You’re not telling me I suck, right?” she teases, just to be sure, though there’s a hint of insecurity bubbling up inside.

Giorno shakes his head, amused. “Would I offer to go shopping with such a person?”

She thinks, long and hard, taking a good look at him. “You would if it would be advantageous for you,” she suggests.

That actually earns a laugh. “You are not wrong, but I also previously suggested that I would enjoy your company.” She’s _fairly_ certain he’s just being charismatic, not flirting.

“Actually, you said you _might_.” But she’s definitely feeling a little better.

“True, true. Well, I did enjoy it generally, and apologize again for Oingo.” He gestures generously for her to go first, and she does. “Well, at least we know now that it is probable the Wolfram & Hart learned of the Arrow from Diavolo. I had wondered about that.”

“Who is ‘Diavolo’?” she asks, and the expression he gets reminds her of the look Jotaro had when DIO had been mentioned.

“Those lawyers weren’t wrong. He was the previous Boss. He also attempted to kill his own daughter, and we stopped him.” He sounds a little troubled as he continues. “Given your mentor’s attitude, however, it’s possible he’ll be annoyed at you. I have to follow up with Fugo to see what occurred with that mask you were concerned with, but I can accompany you back to your headquarters if you would wish.”

“We’re partners in crime, here. I’d be mad if you bailed on me.” Not that she would; she’d understand, and it _is_ an important thing to ask about, but she also appreciates the backup when so many of her interactions with the others lately have gone so very wrong.

“Of course.” He pauses to bow, and she laughs at that.


	16. Turn Into Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Giorno confront Giles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from my message to beta-senpai:  
> ARGH  
> I JUST MADE A DOLLHOUSE REFERENCE AND IT FITS  
> WHOOPS  
> I hated that show  
> ~Dreamer~

“Is there a particular reason behind Signor Giles’ distrust of your leadership?” Giorno asks idly as they make their way to the operations room, where Giles will be.

“Apparently there’s a chalice Wolfram & Hart used a spell on to make us all suspicious of each other.” If that’s true, though, why had he been so dismissive the last time they visited? And if they hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the spell, why hadn’t Giles mentioned that?

The mob boss hums thoughtfully. “Either the spell is very powerful, or he wasn’t that confident in your abilities in the first place…” He starts a little, as if he’d been speaking his thoughts out loud. “My apologies; I’m probably just playing right into their hands.”

Is he doing this on purpose to isolate her? But no, she has to shrug that off. It’s probably the spell again. “How do you deal with it?” He’s had experience dealing with those who don’t trust him, it sounds like.

“You may have noticed Dr. Kujo’s reaction to me, due to my father, DIO.” That…makes perfect sense, actually. “We were able to overcome our differences by being brutally honest with each other—that, and bonding over his knowledge of marine life. Life in all its forms is truly fascinating.”

“You’re so weird,” she remarks, and gets the hint of a smile in return.

“True. There was another, Abbacchio.” There’s…sadness, not regret, in Giorno’s tone. “He guessed, correctly, that I had my own agenda upon joining Bucciarati’s team. I never earned his trust, but, perhaps, his respect.” He pauses and continues. “I put my own life in danger to force him to act, because his hesitation due to his distrust may have cost us everything. I trusted him to save all of us, and he did, even if he hated me more because of that. Trust your dreams and fears in another and they must act. In the end, he trusted me to carry on, even if I…” He pauses, clenching his fist, before he continues. “Even if we were too late.”

Despite this man’s reaction, there’s no answering dislike in Giorno’s tone or voice, only a deep sadness. She was right; this is a warrior who, like her, has tasted loss. And—wait. “Was that the reason you were being so honest with me when we met?”

The young man smiles, proud. “Of course. I had heard about Slayers, and of course there was the fact that I am probably not entirely human. I was unsure what your reaction would be, so I chose the approach with the best chance of success.”

‘Don Giovanna’ is equal parts selfish and altruistic, Buffy’s come to realize, but there’s no point in stalling, so she opens the door instead. The moment she sees Giles, she gets her words out, rather than waiting for him to start in on a lecture, because of the Moods of Giles this one is Not Happy. “You signed off on us dealing with the lawyers.”

Giles is pinching his nose, the step before cleaning his glasses. “That’s because I didn’t think you’d go off and do something so reckless. Did you really have to flood the entire building? Practically all the branches of Wolfram & Hart, I’m told, are in an uproar.”

“That wasn’t the point, obviously, but maybe they’ll stop it with the subtle things and we’ll have drawn them into the open. We might not have the forces on our own, but Don Giovanna here will lend help, as W&H are a problem for them, as well.” She could say ‘might’, but it might also be a case of ‘act confident and people will believe in you’—she’d learned that during the fight with the First, too. She gets a slight nod in confirmation from Giorno.

“Did you even have a plan when you went in?” Giles asks, and she’s had it. Enough of the distrust, enough of the second guessing, enough of being told she just isn’t good enough.

“Do _you_? I wouldn’t know, because you haven’t bothered to tell me. I’m not _good_ at research but I’d gladly help with that if you’d let me. Instead you keep me in the dark, like Johan, and expect me to be happy with being treated like a good little doll in a dollhouse.” _That_ warrants the glasses cleaning. “You gave me the title of Leader when we started all this, but am I just supposed to be a figurehead? What, exactly has changed from the last Council?” Giles opens his mouth, and she fixes him with a glare. “And don’t you dare say you’ll trust me when I earn it. I can’t earn your trust if you don’t let me do anything.”

Giles is silent, and the silence stretches. He’s not going to say anything—or he can’t?

And then Giorno interrupts. “Is this the chalice you were referring to, Signora Summers?” He’s casually holding it in his hands, like it’s not dangerous at all, and this time as they stare they’re speechless for a completely different reason.

“Should you be touching it?” Buffy asks cautiously, then turns to Giles. “Did you get rid of the spell? Do you know if that’s safe?”

“As far as I know, we did, though the magic was different than anything we’ve seen before…” the Watcher explains reluctantly.

Giovanna’s just standing there, eyes closed. Is he being possessed or something? “You didn’t,” he states abruptly, voice and everything else still the same—or is it? “But then, you don’t have the right perspective to understand this one. Like my Stand, whatever did this imbued this chalice with some sort of life energy. It feels like it did when those guards started fighting. Furthermore, it only affects your feelings toward those closest to you, those whom you trust. Even recent acquaintances whom you trust are affected, while strangers are not.” He sets it down carefully, in contrast to his casual attitude. “Fascinating. But if this is the case, why would they unleash such a weapon on themselves?”

“Infighting. Angel destroyed the leadership, so there might be some squabbling about the position of successor or trying to gain whatever power they can,” Buffy realizes. From what Angel had said, the members of Wolfram & Hart were only held in check by their contracts and power. The minute they could, they would devour each other.

“We experienced something similar in Passione, yes,” Giorno agrees.


	17. Chained to Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta-senpai insisted that I take a break this week from writing Shadowed Suspicion because I'm panicking about my test. Normal updates should resume next week (so new chapter the 29th)  
> ~Dreamer~

When she turns back to Giles, he’s sunk down into the desk, head in his hands.

“Well, last chance. Are you going to stop ordering me around like I’m still a kid, or do I need to try to act on my own? We can’t just keep researching forever—we have to do something eventually, and just ‘cause we can’t see a clock ticking down doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” There are probably better, more mature ways of dealing with this but she just can’t deal with this anymore.

“We’re not prepared for war, and I don’t want to lose anyone else. We’ve been trying to determine what Wesley’s aim is. All I’m asking for is a little more time.” He seems defeated, resigned to the inevitable. Does he really believe this, or is his thinking still being influenced by that spell?

“Like it or not, war has come. I’m not going to just stand aside and let them do whatever they wish.” Buffy walks to the doorway and pauses. “You better not get killed while I’m gone. Giorno, you’ll still help out when I’m gone, right?”

Giorno nods. He probably wouldn’t agree so easily if they hadn’t learned, to some extent, to trust each other. Fighting alongside each other is generally the best way to do so, she’s found. “Of course, and whatever help you want is yours. You merely have to ask.”

He’s offering to help, to come with her if she but asks, but is leaving the choice up to her, unlike some people. He respects her. It’s a nice feeling. “Sorry, but this is something I need to do myself.” She might like him and trust him, but he is a crime boss, with an agenda of his own. She needs to prove to herself she doesn’t need a handicap like other people to keep herself out of danger.

He nods, as if he’d been expecting that. “Find your resolve, and with that you can overcome anything.” And she finally leaves.

“Are you satisfied?” Giles asks brokenly, and Giorno shakes his head, resting himself against one of the stone columns like he’s a Roman statue.

“It brings me no pleasure to watch this, Signor Giles. It brings back terrible memories, in fact. But I also cannot stand by and watch as the two of you try to pretend that nothing’s wrong and attempt to fix nothing. You don’t wish to watch another die, a sentiment I can fully understand and agree with. If you continue down this path, you will already have lost her.”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me how to fix it,” Giles suggests sarcastically, anger seeking a target, fight coming back into his body.

“I am not Signor Higashikata. I have no easy ways to solve problems. Even my healing is painful, but then, I have reason to believe life is glory and pain in equal measure, and it is our resolve that allows us to move past obstacles to achieve our objectives.” He smiles then, gentle as a summer rain. “I can suggest that you see things from her perspective. Understanding is a valuable tool, as a librarian should know.”

Which probably, Giles thinks, darkly amused, explains exactly why the Don of Passione made such a study of understanding other people so very easily. 

“A friend once described fate as a sleeping slave. The metaphor is apt for a Slayer. Their fates are chosen for them, and they have no control over their own fate. With the act that woke all the Potential Slayers, they have been set free, but even so, young or old they are warriors. They have resolve and dreams of their own. They don’t need constant orders, but a guiding hand and support, because they must be free to make their own mistakes. Constantly questioning Signora Summers’ decisions and undermining her authority does nothing to destroy her feelings that her life is not her own to command.”

“And if that ends in her death?” the Watcher asks, fight bleeding back out of him once more.

“Then you carry on her will and don’t forget her sacrifice.” The mob boss’s voice is sad at the prospect, but he doesn’t shy away from it. “You cannot live your life in fear, for that is no life at all.”

Giles sighs and takes a deep breath to try to ward away the tears. “While you have a point, Don Giovanna, do you think you could give me some time to pull myself together? I regret I am in no position to make useful decisions on behalf of us both.”

“Of course. I can get in contact with Fugo in the meantime, and discover if he has found your missing Mask or order him to find it if he has not done so. I would suggest perhaps it is not the best idea to take your rest with the chalice in your office.” Gracefully, Giovanna goes to the same door and goes through it, disappearing into the hallways beyond and probably wrecking havoc with the magical security systems. Again.

When Buffy reaches the exit to the little alley, the exit from their new headquarters, she finds her way is blocked by a tall shape she recognizes. It’s associated with reassurance, but there’s something ominous and unmoving about it now.

“Are you going to try to tell me I’m not allowed to leave? You’re not my father; you can’t ground me.” Oddly enough, Jotaro flinches when she says that, but he still doesn’t move out of the way, pulling his hat down a little. “I’m not going to stop you, Buffy.”

Her eyes narrow as he continues to stand there. “If that’s true, why are you standing in my way?”

“You can see Stands. But if you’re going to go out there on your own, without a Stand User to back you up, I want to make sure you can fight them.”

He continues not to move, and Buffy swallows, moving into a fighting stance. “You’re going to try to see that with your own eyes, aren’t you?”

Jotaro smiles slightly, hand on his hat, and summons Star Platinum.


	18. Can't Stand That Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotaro and Buffy face off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title. Funny enough there's a music creator named StoneOcean on youtube.  
> ~Dreamer~

Unfortunately enough for Jotaro, Buffy’s had a lot of practice strategizing in battle. She doesn’t prefer doing it, really, but even if Giles doesn’t believe in her she’s fully aware of her own abilities. From how Kakyoin had talked, trying to explain this new power that she was supposed to develop soon, Star Platinum was mainly a straight brawler Stand, which was fine by her. It’s been a while since she’s had a good direct fight like that, and she misses it a little. Sometimes, demons had a little too much imagination, and she misses just a simple vampire fight ending with a good staking. There’s the little matter of how he’d ended up in front of her, taking that blow from the Slaypire tail meant for her. One second, nothing was between her and that…thing. The next, he was there, grunting and taking pain she could’ve taken too (but, well, at least he didn’t outwardly seem to mind healing as much as she did, even if he did seem super grumpy about everything; that might be his natural state of being, she’s not sure).

The Stand is fast. She remembers the rapid-fire punchfest. It punches faster than she can, for sure, but she’s not sure if it is generally faster or stronger than a Slayer. Well, no…if she pushed herself she could probably punch through a Slaypire’s head, but she’s been trying to hold herself back for so long so she doesn’t accidentally wrench doors off hinges or break dishes. (Mom had never forgiven her for most of the dishware, she thinks with a pang. Even when she’d tried to be careful.) She hasn’t gotten in some good exercise for a bit anyway, and she’s still got a lot of pent-up rage from all the death. Angel, her Slayers, probably innocents caught in the crossfire. If she’s honest, she had been curious about how a Slayer’s power matches up to a Stand, though she’s not sure she would have suggested it. It’s too late to find out for sure now, of course. She’s probably got a boost from her anger, just like in all the other fights, so it’s probably not the same, but then, even if the surroundings change just a little, match-up fights never are. What-ifs have no place in the here and now. There’s only the fist being aimed at her head.

She ducks it easily. Jotaro must be starting out slow, trying to gauge her before he goes all out. Which is fair enough, and doesn’t really bother her. Sometimes when she’s up against a fighter she’s wary of, she does the same thing, trying to keep herself intact while she tries to find a weakness and evaluate the fighting style.

He smirks a little, and yeah, he can’t hide that it’s pride now, though if he bothered explaining he would probably say something about a good fight instead. He hadn’t actually been starting off slow—well, the single punch definitely _is_ slower than that Gold Rush whatever. His speed is pretty close to his best.

In return, she aims a punch directly at Star Platinum’s stomach, and hears the corresponding whoosh of air as all of Jotaro’s air gets forced out. So Stands are pretty attached to their casters, or whatever they’re called. If one’s hurt, the other is too. That’s good to know. Though Stands do have different abilities, and some are probably easier to punch than others. Kakyoin had explained about how his was a distance type, and Josephine’s was a hybrid. He probably would have continued talking about it if Jotaro hadn’t called him back in to discuss something. He really seemed to enjoy the topic.

She had been trying for more damage than that—not broken ribs or anything, though Joestars could probably heal from that too—but _something_ more than that. Then again, apparently Jotaro had been stabbed once by a magical sword or something, so people with Stands were probably more durable, too—kind of like a Slayer. Funny, that.

He does seem to be in more pain due to the healing wound, but then, he really should’ve thought about that before picking a fight with a Slayer, and he wants her to treat this like he’s an enemy with a Stand. She’s definitely not pulling her punches in that case.

Going off on her own might be a dumb idea, and Willow might be right. This all might be that spell working on her, too. But as she told Giorno, she is tired of just sitting around and waiting for her enemies to make a move, tired of cowering around like with the First. She’d had so much hope that they were moving on, learning from what they’d been doing then, but it just feels the same. And if it’s a trap, well, bring it on. A trap only works if you can cut off all escape, and the trapee doesn’t know about the trap. And maybe it would have helped Giles to mention that she’d had one of her first Slayer Dreams in a while, suggesting that she really did need to do this, to go out on her own, and she was pretty sure those came from the First Slayer and she wasn’t still mad at them after her little dream-punishment thing since no one had noticed anything. But she shouldn’t have to mention little details like that to get her own Watcher to believe in her. He needs to learn to trust that she can deal with these situations on her own.

Jotaro backs up a little, breathing heavy, and the seethrough vision of the Stand fades a little. So breathing’s probably important to maintain a Stand (it’s not pain; he’d barely flinched and really been just a little more annoyed at being impaled by the Slaypire tail). Out of nowhere, two of Star Platinum’s fingers extend. She’d felt the air moving before she’d even consciously seen what was coming, so they only scratch her face a little. ‘Star Finger’ sounds a little more like some drink Faith would order, but never mind that. There’s a manhole cover at her feet, just begging to be used. She’s seen Xander struggle enough with them whenever they have to go into the sewers, so apparently they’re pretty heavy for a normal person to lift, but it’s easy enough for her to do one-handed, and she throws it like a really heavy discus. Jotaro catches it, but grunts. He’s back to Expressionless Stoic Face. Star Platinum, on the other hand, is grinning as wide as it possibly can. It looks a little bit deranged like that, but then, there’s something probably a little bit wrong with all of them, isn’t there?


	19. Nothing & Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotaro and Buffy finish their fight.

It’s easy enough for her to dodge the manhole cover as Star Platinum throws it. It buries itself in the wall, which reinforces her assessment: this Stand, at least, is as strong as an enraged Slayer, or at least one that’s trying hard. It’s fast, too, with senses to match the speed.

Jotaro, on the other hand, definitely isn’t. He’s more durable than your average human, but he’s only as fast or strong as a human with training could possibly be. The fact that the Stand faded a little when he got hurt suggests that, if possible, the human using the technique is a pretty good weak point, particularly if you can’t figure out how to fight the Stand.

“Come on, I thought you were stronger than this! What you’re doing here isn’t working!” She goes to capitalize on her newfound realization, only she gets what Xander had jokingly referred to as her “Slayer Senses”. It’s danger, and it’s important. She needs to get out of harm’s way. Now. She jumps skyward, and the next thing she knows, she’s flying into the side of the building, cracking it a little but fortunately not getting lodged like the manhole cover. She’s hurt, but not down for the count, and Buffy’s pretty sure that the fists of fury hurt worse than the building. They only clipped her, by the feel of it, even though she doesn’t really remember being hit. Whatever he’d used to get in front of her the first time, he’d done it again. She stays still, and Jotaro hasn’t seemed to have found out that she’s faking it, because the Stand moves closer without the caution it should have. She’s still not sure if this will work, but despite how the fight had started, Jotaro had actually planned on stretching her capabilities, not just acting as a warm-up. She’d seen that last punch, but there were more her body had felt but she hadn’t seen. The only conclusion that made sense was that either he had superspeed or stopped time. The second Star Platinum gets close enough, she stops playing dead, grabbing the dagger Giorno hadn’t asked for back, and buries it in the Stand’s shoulder. A move like that probably won’t do much but she wants a little time to plan how she’s going to deal with something like that. It backs off, expression no longer smiling, but it doesn’t make a move to attack her again. She waits, and there’s a tense standoff, but as he still doesn’t move to attack her, only removing the dagger and holding pressure to the wound, she gets the feeling that this, whatever this was, is over.

“All this time,” she wipes the blood from her lip off on the back of her hand, grimacing, “…you were holding back. That’s kind of counter to your little test, right?”

But as she glances over, she gets a clue. He’s still breathing heavily, which he just doesn’t do in combat, and his eyes are a little wide. The rest of the expression’s still the same stoic Jotaro as ever, but then, he’s not very expressive in the first place, so any little changes are a big deal. His hand is actually shaking a little as he reaches towards his pockets, hesitates for a second, and then jams both hands firmly in his pockets, like she doesn’t have Slayer senses and can’t see his hands still trembling. He’s…actually afraid of his power for some reason.

And he doesn’t answer.

“Jotaro?” she asks gently, and his gaze re-fixes on her face.

“Most Stand Users don’t use all their skills during combat.” His voice is as strong as ever, not even shaking like his hands. “Sometimes we’ll discover new abilities while we’re fighting. Sometimes we’ll want to keep a surprise in case we’ve underestimated an opponent or we’re just saving our stamina.” That’s…actually, now that she thinks about it, that’s more words than she’s heard him use in one go. But even when he’d gotten upset at Josephine’s story, he hadn’t gotten talkative like Xander panicking; he’d just broken the cup and smoked. Which also means he was probably going to grab a cigarette from his pocket and changed his mind. Maybe he’s trying to quit? Characteristically, he doesn’t say anything else after he finishes.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t care about explaining himself to most people, but for whatever reason she’d become important to him. Most likely, he’s got some bad memories associated with that particular power. She gets that; she startled herself by not being able to watch the latest mindless action flick with the rest of the Slayers without freaking out a little (okay, who’s she kidding, a _lot_ ) when the gun fired. It didn’t sound quite the same, but it was still enough to make her have to take a little break she wrote off as a search for more popcorn. Only Willow maybe noticed, and she didn’t say anything.

“So, did I pass your test or what?” It’s good to give him a script, some path to follow.

He pulls his hat down a little and gets out of the way. Honestly, she might have wanted a report card or something, but it now doesn’t feel like he was setting her up to fail or anything at all. Not like Giles, who seems to have lost his way. He’d apparently been good at improvisation before, when he’d been a chaos mage like Rayne, but now. Now he was out of his element if there wasn’t a manual for it (well, less so than Wesley had been, but that wasn’t saying much). He didn’t want her to kill or maim him, and he didn’t expect her to be completely ineffectual. He just wanted the sense that she stood a chance; that he wasn’t sending her to her death. Stand fights probably aren’t a sure thing for them, either, so a chance is enough for those with enough will and imagination.

She could be wrong about all of this, but she doesn’t think so. She’ll never really know either way. He doesn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings. “Well, thanks. I’ll be back so you better not die before then.” He grunts as she walks off but Star Platinum’s still smiling, which is good enough for her.


	20. Shedding the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolfram & Hart deal with the damage Buffy, Giorno, and Oingo did, as well as another mysterious visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry readers, but I got the flu or a cold or something and have been spending half my time coughing like a banshee and half my time sleeping. New chapter maybe 12/20 (assuming I recover enough to write one by then).  
> ~Dreamer~

“Get out of my way!” She’s tall and intimidating in that fake of a suit (Sawyers knows full well that Ijuth is a demoness and as good as the suit looks it’s actually woven from treated human skin), and he complies immediately, shrinking against the wall.

“Yes, my lady, I’m very sorry,” he mumbles, shaking, and it’s enough subservience to get her to smile—for the moment, anyway. Her tail still scratches him as she passes, altering her form just slightly for an attack, and he shivers further. 

He stays against the wall where he’s crumbled, finally rubbing his arm where she’d cut when she’s out of sight and won’t take offense. He waits a full two minutes until it becomes clear that no one else will come down the hallway, because he’s under no illusions that he’s immune from being expendable, just because he’s useful. He can achieve just as much as a zombie, and it’s treated as a useful punishment in company culture, and if he messes this up he certainly will be due something. Maybe just torture.

Once he’s ready, he digs his fingers into the cracks in one of the wood panels, and rather than being hard, it turns soft, bubbling around his fingertips like some sort of sentient slime. And then, the wall swings open, just enough for him to slip inside, walking with sure, confident steps down the corridor, each twist and turn taken without hesitation. He even expertly avoids the walls, because others can hear him if he knocks into them carelessly. It’s all the more impressive given that it’s pitch black in the corridor. The darkness is cold, somehow blacker than a moonless midnight, and he occasionally feels what might be phantom touches now and then, so it might be demonic or magic.

Who’s he kidding, he knows where he works, better than anyone. It’s _definitely_ demonic or magic in origin. But ignoring the fool he plays for everyone else in the office, he’s made of sterner stuff than that, and won’t flinch on his path.

Finally, he gets to the office, and light suddenly exists, from a fancy lamp on the desk. He settles in at his own desk, leaning back in the chair that attempts to swallow him (not, luckily, in a demonic or magical way, it would be annoying otherwise) and putting his feet on the desk. Sharing the desk in the main office with Francis is a bother, but if he’s lucky, for not much longer. And then he grabs the phone.

He listens to the static for a minute, two, and allows himself to relax so it’s not a waste of time. The instant it changes, he sits up a little.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your office,” Wesley states, and he doesn’t waste either of their times by asking how the man knows.

“Moreso poisoning the woman who held it before me, but the office is nice, too, I suppose.” She’d been too soft, too trusting, and really should have known better than to go out on a date with someone else in the company. Then again, perhaps the telepathy was a bit cheating—except this is Wolfram & Hart, and cheating is every bit as valid. No one can hope to make it far on goodwill alone. Or efficiency. She’d been good at spying and getting information, but in the end clutched a little too obsessively at her humanity; foolish, in the end, as she sooner or later would surrender it the moment she signed her employment contract.

Wesley chuckles. “Well, I hope you like making reports as much as you do killing people.”

“Yes, sir, it’s all over, but we’ve learned a little from their visit. The Slayer had noticed the phenomenon causing the fighting before, so it’s not one of theirs. It’s entirely possible it’s an internal faction.” It’s almost impossible to rule out an internal faction, and from Wesley’s disgruntled noise, he knows this truth as well as anyone.

“I am correct in that it was the leader of Passione himself who visited our humble offices?” the head of Special Projects asks, and Sawyer wonders why he bothers to ask, given that he clearly knows the answer.

“Yes, and The Slayer. And some unimportant Stand User whose only power is to disguise them. It might have worked, but fortunately his Stand Khnum does not also disguise thoughts. You should know, The Slayer had one occurrence of wondering if there was a telepath in the group, so it’s possible the information I gained was fed to me.” It had been a moment of mutual anxiety for them both.

“I can’t tell you for sure, and the Valley Girl act is merely that, but I don’t think even Buffy Summers could manage such an act in her own mind. Tell me, did she know anything about the Senior Partners?” His telepathy doesn’t fully work when the person isn’t in the same room, a fact of some disappointment for Wesley when he’d first been recruited, but he gets a hint of worry over the line despite none being present in Wesley’s tone, and…that itself is worrying. It would have to be strong emotion for him to be able to read it in such a way.

“Sir?” he asks, concerned, and Wesley hesitates. Hesitates. Before smoothly pressing on.

“The Ram is no more.” It takes a moment or two for the words to sink in.

“What—”

“The Senior Partner was inspecting the Silicon Valley Branch. A report was due, and when it was overdue and no communication was possible, a few employees were sent to investigate. They were all dead—and none could be revived, despite the contract. It’s easy enough to explain the demons—we have been following the reports of the Siphon, as I would hope you have done as well—but fact that the power worked on the humans _and_ The Ram is more troubling.” Sawyer believed he didn’t know fear. Now, he suspects, he understands exactly what that emotion is, in himself rather than in those he blackmails or kills.

“Can it work on souls as well as magic?” he suggests, voice breaking without his permission.

“I would have to imagine that it does, or perhaps every human has a portion of magic that is necessary for their life to continue. But…” Wesley stops with a chuckle, “…that is a little too _Star Wars_ for my taste. Given that this is a surprise, I would gather The Slayer did not know.”

“No, she did not, but she did have other relevant information,” the lawyer responds after a pause to gather his composure again, and the silence suggests he continue.


	21. Burning on the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesley and his agent continue their talk.

Fortunately, while attempting to clean up the mess and acting all meek and subservient, Sawyer’s had a lot of time to think about the relevant facts and the most efficient way to say it. Wesley was never fond of anyone wasting his time. Perhaps he’ll get upset at the fact that while she _did_ have relevant information, he was unable to extract it, but as information brokers went, Sawyer considers himself rather good.

“Summers did not fully know what Giovanna was planning, and did not fully trust him. She knew something about the events in Italy, but didn’t think about any of it directly, and Giovanna has a lot of self-control. I didn’t get much from his own mind.” It’s annoying. There had been so much more below the surface that he could have gotten—more about Italy, more about the suspicion effect, more about Giovanna or what the Slayers were planning—but he would have had to press further, and going as far as he had, he’s not sure that their visitors hadn’t noticed. “It probably was a fact-finding expedition. Giovanna’s words suggested he was interested in learning about how much we knew of what was going on inside Passione, and whether he had yet been betrayed. Summers showed a lot of interest in our Arrow.”

Wesley perks up on the other end of the line. “Did she know the story of what happened on the train?”

He’d found that interesting, too, from an academic angle. Learning more about the Arrow, about who wanted it and why and how it worked. Let the idiots like Houston and Ellis fight in the field and get themselves killed to be resurrected later. Let them fight over earning a power with which to fight, putting themselves in harm’s way like morons and try to gain lesser power. Knowledge! The ultimate power, what had led him to this point. Knowing every single case, every precedent, every law. Knowing the exact argument that will persuade the current judge. Knowing exactly how to present an argument to any chosen jury. Knowing exactly how to climb the ranks in the firm without coming to the attention of the wrong people. Knowing who to blackmail and how to blackmail them. “She did. She was trying not to think about it too much, given the feelings she still felt about them, but apparently Angelus died there. He’d accompanied the other Slayers whose bodies we found. Has he been resurrected at any of the branches?”

He knows better than to ask questions overall. Wesley’s not fond of giving out information himself, a sign of intelligence (especially given the man has thus far only contacted him via phone, refusing to meet in person). On this occasion, though, it’s one of those rhetorical questions he asks in court to start a line of thought in the jury members.

“…Not as far as I know. I would guess that means the Powers That Be interfered with the contract. I’ve heard that was possible but had yet to see any evidence of it.” The only reason, he knows, that Wesley even bothers to answer that question is because he knows Sawyer has no intention of actually using that loophole to get out of his own contract. It was too lucrative. “Anything about the demon that was there? The evidence of its presence was minimal, and if it had the opportunity to clean up after itself, I’m not sure we would have even had that.”

“She might have had an idea, but it wasn’t at the front of her mind. I would have had to interrogate her mind to get that.” It’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped. “As for Giovanna…” he continues, because he knows the man in charge of Special Projects has a vested interest in current events in Italy, “His story about his own Stand was genius. He may have been lying about whether he was the Boss previously, or he might have told us nothing but the truth. He introduced just enough uncertainty that discovering the full truth will be difficult. He suggested that he retained youth via stealing life from others. I got the feeling that the Stand had to do with life, so it’s entirely possible it takes life from some creatures and gives it to others.” True, Giovanna’s Stand is not the key information they need to beat Passione, but it is surely helpful information.

“He is the son of a vampire, so I could see that being the case,” Wesley remarks noncommittally, and that’s…that’s a little out of character. The man does like to keep secrets, but he might be pleased by Sawyer’s performance and offering him a reward worth more than money, or giving him information important for his continued performance. “What about Capperi? Do you think he would be useful in taking back Italy?”

Giovanna knows the wealth of knowledge. He knows when to be cagey, when to give away knowledge, and even more importantly that truth and falsehood are even more powerful when mistaken for each other and possibly mixed in with each other. He has to respect that. “Given Giovanna’s cleverness, I would guess that he chose Capperi specifically because he would be useful. He is probably as likely to betray the Don as Giovanna portrayed, and as likely to be useful as we’d guess. Giovanna is probably also setting him up, waiting for his betrayal as a sign to send, say, the gunslinger Mista.”

Wesley hums but doesn’t respond directly. “I may be out of touch in a little over a month.”

Sawyer senses an opportunity immediately. “Anything I can help with?”

Wesley chuckles. Fortunately, he hasn’t taken offense. Then again, he always seemed to like blatant ambition. He actively didn’t trust anyone who _didn’t_ display it, which given who they work for makes complete sense. “You would not be useful there, but I do have another assignment for you. At your next day off, I have a member of the Speedwagon Foundation, the support of the Joestars…”


	22. Last Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy meets another potential ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they stopped having the comics on ebook library format. I might be able to get a physical copy of the first one, but. (I did! Ha! And…it’s the wrong volume. Gureito-daze.) Well, I warned you all that I haven't read all of the comics so it's not going to be a retread.  
> ~Dreamer~

“Wait up!” Buffy’s getting tired of ignoring the annoying person who’s following her and yelling at her. She’s been trying to think of her next move and this isn’t helping her think at all. She doesn’t recognize the voice, so it’s probably just one of the new Watchers she hasn’t met yet. “Please, wait!”

If she keeps walking, he’s going to keep following her, which will be more annoying than just ignoring him, so she turns to look. It’s—it’s that idiot who had gotten himself cornered in that alley. He’s no mere civilian, because most of those like to try to get away from any of this after they survive and escape. To be fair, their last interaction hadn’t convinced her that the guy had any sense of self-preservation, so it could be perfectly normal for him. He’s probably not a Watcher, though. A Watcher would be better about getting themselves cornered by a bunch of vampires.

He skids up to her sweating but not panting, which is at least a tiny bit impressive. “You’re a Slayer, aren’t you? Please, I need your help.” Now that she’s paying attention, that’s not a British accent. He’s American, like her, possibly even from California. Also odd.

She stares blankly. “Um, who are you?” She hasn’t played the Valley Girl in years, since Willow and Xander had stopped looking for it and Giles stopped having funny reactions to it. It’s weird how one stranger can put you back in a mindset of years ago.

He bows deeply, a little touch of the flamboyant in the gesture. “We didn’t have a proper introduction last time, my apologies. Severin Montreux. Have you heard of an Ascension?”

Her dream hadn’t steered her wrong. This is big. Old Ones were nothing to sneeze at, and she’s not sure they retrieved the Scythe from the old HQ given what happened the last time they’d tried to go in. They’d only managed to kill the last one because they went for it right after its Ascension, when it was still weak and kinda vulnerable. Giles had mentioned one in Kauai had only been killed by a volcanic eruption. It’s for the best if they stop this before it really gets going. A human becoming an ancient demon is for the best if it doesn’t happen. Would they have just missed this with Giles all curled up into his shell, pretending that nothing was going wrong as long as he couldn’t see it?

“Killed the last Ascended human in Sunnydale. Lots of people die if it isn’t stopped. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, by the way.” She holds out a hand, and Severin reaches out to shake her hand immediately. He doesn’t wince or pull away, and doesn’t try to impress her with a show of strength. That’s impressive in of itself. Even Riley couldn’t quite get the hang of a respectful handshake with a Slayer.

“I’m kind of mad at myself. I forgot to grab anything to be autographed,” he jokes quietly with a self-depreciating smile before continuing more seriously, “I knew you were a Slayer; I didn’t realize you were The Slayer. You definitely can help me with this.”

“So, last time we met, you said you could help _me_. How?” He hadn’t really looked like he was in control of matters when they’d last met. Is he stupidly overconfident, or does he have some clue of what he’s doing?

He definitely looks embarrassed. “Sorry, I just…I’m not exactly used to this fighting thing. I’ve only been doing it solo for a few months now.” That would explain it a little. If he’s used to someone else having his back, his getting cornered makes a lot more sense. “My girlfriend back in San Francisco was a Slayer, and I’d just been doing what I could to support her, without, well. You know. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, but I’m generally a hapless mortal, and I wanted to help, not distract her from doing her job.”

“Trust me, I know how that goes.” Her Scooby squad had gotten better at the whole protecting themselves thing, but they still weren’t Slayers. “What do you do?”

He flashes her a shy smile. “I—I think I’m what you might call a witch. I’ve harnessed the power of sunlight in a spell because for some reason vampires don’t seem to get along with Vitamin D.”

Well, he’s intelligent, for sure. “Willow thought about that, but never followed through.” She’d also thought about telekinesis and pencils, and if she’d actually followed through on that rather than getting all sidetracked by her addiction to magic, it could’ve been really helpful.

“Well, that’s silly of her.” He doesn’t sound particularly judging, just curious. “Clare definitely appreciated it—mostly the fact that I could take care of myself, I think. She didn’t need the backup. Not until the lawyers stepped in.”

“Wolfram & Hart, huh?” Funny how many times they’ve shown up recently. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs, but his eyes are moist. He’s doing the male suffering in silence thing, isn’t he? She still thinks it’s stupid, but she’s learned to take it a little more in stride thanks to Xander. “Why are you apologizing for something the villains did?” That’s…actually a really good point.

“All right, then, I feel and understand your feelings, given that an ex recently died to them.” That’s probably a better way to put it and think about it, huh. “So, you’ve been looking for revenge, and keeping an eye on them, and that’s when you learned about the Ascension, right?”

A smile and a nod. “You’re very good at this, Ms. Summers.” He begins walking again, leading her to a park bench. “It was one particular book acquired by Special Projects that alerted me—it’s a ritual book only used for Ascensions. I tried to prevent them from getting it, but…” he shrugs. “I’m not a Slayer, and my power is limited in use against actual living humans.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” she promises.


	23. Normal Abnormality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy gets to know her ally a little better.

Severin has a lot of pent-up, restless energy, Buffy notices. He’s a little squirrelly, like that Wolfram & Hart Sawyer guy had been, which…actually probably isn’t a bad comparison. They’re both nervous but more competent than they appear, and that nervousness doesn’t prevent him from acting. He’s fidgety in the taxi as they go to the airport, tapping his foot and staring out the window. He probably feels guilty about his girlfriend’s death, but if she couldn’t handle it and he’s not, say, Willow-levels of witchy power, he really shouldn’t. Like he’d pointed out himself, he shouldn’t feel bad for what the bad guys do with their time, and if he’s not super powerful he couldn’t have stopped them in the first place. He’s younger than her by the look of it. She’d managed much harder at his age, but she had support. Sometimes. When they weren’t all being terrible people because of teenage hormones and general immaturity. From the sound of things, Severin and Clare mostly just had each other. And he’d joked around about the whole autograph thing, but maybe he’d really meant it. Which…hang on.

“I’m sorry to bring up memories that hurt, but why didn’t your Watcher call for help? You know the term ‘Slayer’, which you wouldn’t if she’d been called and we hadn’t found them yet…”

They’d been trying to make a better organization, and in some ways they’d succeeded. Slayers were no longer thought of as expendable. On the other hand, all this stuff about running an organization and being efficient wasn’t something any of them, even Giles no matter how much he played the responsible one, knew what they were doing.

His face gets a pinched look, and he continues to stare out the window, lost look in his eyes. “It was so quick. Popescu died with her, before she could call for help. She wasn’t bad, but she was new at this—I think it was decided that San Francisco didn’t need an experienced Watcher or much of a presence because it’s not exactly Los Angeles or one of the battlefronts. I was left for dead.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt and that _is_ a pretty nasty scar on his collarbone.

She remembers Popescu, teaching the Romanian a bit of how to be a Watcher though she’d only done a bit of combat training with any of the new Watchers. She remembers that decision, because from what they could tell at the time there wasn’t much demon presence in the city and they had limited resources, stretched too thin and lacking the proper experience to assign people to the exact right tasks to make the most of their limited numbers. Of course, it’s worse now, but especially when it came to Watchers they had to make do.

She places a hand on his shoulder to try to reassure him. “She died, but her will didn’t, and we can carry it on together.”

Severin shivers. “I remember lying there in despair and I promised myself I would never feel that way again.”

He frowns and finally glances over at her. “Yes, sorry. I’m not sure she’d be happy I’m still putting myself in harm’s way, but…I don’t ever want to feel that helplessness again. And if I can stop this from happening to someone else, I want to do that.”

She’s surprised he’s not angrier at Slayers or the Slayer organization, but that shows he’s a rational human being. Then again, with his speech about actually being mad at the culprits, she maybe should’ve expected it.

He’s slightly more settled as they get through security, though when they get to the chairs to wait he somehow jumps and ends up in a sitting position in one of the seats. It might be a way to show off, but it seems more like more burning off of that nervous energy.

Maybe if she tells a story, it will help. “I have a friend who hates flying on planes.” It had been a bit of a surprise from Xander, considering he’d never actually flown in one. Which was also a bit of a surprise, but it turned out that road trips are as far as he’d ever gone when it came to traveling out of Sunnydale. When it had become time to travel from Cleveland to London, he’d babbled like he was going for a Willow Award, but she’d attributed that to the amount of caffeine he’d required to get moving that early in the morning. Dawn had reported, though, that his grip was white-knuckled on the armrests on either side of his seat, and the stupid scifi B-movie they were showing wasn’t enough to distract him. “He just had to be different from everyone else. It’s not like he’s afraid of heights or anything.” He’d actually enjoyed the view from the London Eye, when they’d briefly allowed themselves to be tourists before they got down to the real business of replacing the entire infrastructure of one of the most important organizations protecting the free world. “He just gets this feeling every time he steps foot in one that it’s going to crash. He’d apparently had nightmares about it since he was a kid. I blame all those dumb disaster movies he watches.” Though since he’d awoken to his birthright his powers obviously had something to do with dreams, so they might work like Slayer dreams. She’ll ask him about that at some point, when they’ve got the time and aren’t in constant crisis mode. At least it doesn’t seem apocalypse-adjacent so far and—nope, she’s not going any further with that thought because so far experience has taught her jinxes are a real thing.

“You like him,” Severin observes, sounding a little more settled and a little less twitchy.

She chuckles in response. “Not the way you’re thinking. He’s one of my best friends since just about forever.” Fortunately, that seems to have done the trick. Then again, acting like everything’s normal has been a coping mechanism for about the same amount of eternity.


	24. In Another Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy listens to some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNBETA'D BECAUSE ERRANDS. DON'T ASK.  
> ~Dreamer~  
> chapter has now been beta'd

It would be nice, sometime, to visit Italy or practically anywhere else without it being on Slayer business. Still, Buffy can totally appreciate acting for once, as opposed to just sitting around like little trapped mice in a hole. Severin suggests they go check on the local Wolfram & Hart Special Projects office, as that’s where the book was delivered. It’s unlikely it’s still there, but they might get a clue. Among other things, he did suggest that, as a rule, they tended to be organized in their brand of evil, which meant some kind of documents somewhere they might be able to discover. It’d probably be in some sort of code, and of course who knows how much they wrote down, or how much they still have in the way of documents. Francis and Sawyer had hinted that Giorno’s gang had practically laid siege to their offices in Italy, and despite the idea that Giorno would ensure discipline, he’d probably be interested in information and a repurposing of funds. He just seems the type.

If she needs to, she’ll ask Giorno if his people found anything like that, but that’s a last resort. She said she wanted to handle this on her own, after all. He wouldn’t stay out of it, but his opinion of her would change. Her opinion of herself, too. She’d used the help of the Scoobies most of the time, yes, but she’d still managed to act on her own when she’d been in Los Angeles. Mostly, they’d all fallen into bad habits—yeah, even her, with the idea she has to handle everything herself—and gotten complacent.

He understands the need to act for her own interests, and he probably wouldn’t have waited this long to act himself. In fact…

In fact, knowing him, he would have a complicated, reckless, bold, and clever plan to lure his enemies out in the open and turn the tables on them. She hadn’t missed Jotaro’s statement about a zoo and an elephant. Maybe the story he told wasn’t so far-fetched after all. If nothing else, it matched his personality perfectly. He said he hadn’t acted against them directly, but that doesn’t mean he did nothing, waiting for W&H to make a move.

Jotaro…Jotaro would have been more straightforward, but he wouldn’t have held back, either.

And Josephine might sit still. Maybe. She seems like the most unpredictable of the ones she’s met. But it’s likely she’d be out there, too, thinking on her feet and popping out of the most unexpected places.

In all likelihood, it isn’t that stupid chalice, or whatever spell, alone. It’s entirely possible that Giles had just wanted her to retire from the field, keep her out of harm’s way, now that she’d “done enough” or whatever stupid criteria he had. Only he was too much of a coward to say that to her, actually. Never mind what she wanted. She’d tried out that old dream of hers, to live a pretty normal life even if it was in Britain and she was more of a teacher than anything, and…

Well, maybe her childhood had broken her or something, but she _hated_ it. She remembered griping to Xander, because he hadn’t heard her whine about it a hundred times and wouldn’t scold her for it, but she was bored out of her mind. _Faith_ got to teach _and_ go out in the field, for Slayer Training Purposes, and _that_ sounded better. Plus special apocalypse duty, of course, because no matter how passé it’s become, it’s no more welcome no matter how often it happens.

As for Giorno, he’d believed in her leadership abilities, with only the advice to be brutally honest…

And something breaks, a dam inside her. She can act on this alone—well, relatively so—but that doesn’t mean she can’t use the resources at her disposal. She’s still mad, but if someone’s going to be reasonable in this situation it’s definitely _not_ going to be Giles. She’s going to have to be the adult in this situation. Is this that resolve Giorno mentioned? Even if it isn’t, she feels a lot more powerful and settled than she did ten minutes ago. She excuses herself to the restroom when they get through customs and texts Giles. ‘hey since you want to just sit there and research and not act is there a way to discover what book on Ascension W&H got their hands on? Also ask Giorno if his people found one’

She’s not going to just take his word for it, since she’s going to double check at least these two things on her own, but it’s worth asking.

‘ASCENSION’ she gets in response, and imagines several rows of question marks after the response. At least he realizes the gravity of the situation. And, another thing that gives her hope, he must have been staying near his phones, just in case she got in touch. Her Watcher has yet, however, to find the punctuation on his phone. Texting isn’t Giles’ favorite method of communication, but she’s not going to make a call with Severin waiting on her.

‘;) yes I’m good at my job when you let me do it which I guess I should say about you too’

The next reply takes a while, probably because he’s trying to type a perfect response. She’s taking longer, too. She’d use textspeak, given that some of the younger Slayers had taught her and she finds it hilarious, but Giles would never decipher it.

‘There were only a few books on Ascension Most rituals were passed down verbally I believe Ive seen a list of possibilities somewhere perhaps in previous Watchers diaries though I wouldnt get up your hopes most of those were lost with the First ill try to find what I can there might be a spell willow or Andrew can help with and at the least I can write down what I remembr’

A few minutes. ‘im glad youre all right please stay that way’

And another minute. ‘also im sorry. And hate this new devil invention more than computers’

She stifles a laugh at that. But this is more the kind of thing she’d envisioned following the victory over the First, and maybe they can actually work as a team that doesn’t resent each other or their current assignments.

As for some stupid spell, she’ll show it how much it can actually dictate how she acts or doesn’t act.


	25. Everything and Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight to prevent the Ascension begins in earnest, and Buffy gets to see her new ally in action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at least I got to discuss what happens in this week's chapter with beta-senpai (sorry about all the work, beta-senpai! you're very much appreciated!!)  
> ~dreamer~

Over the next fifteen hours they spend planning their approach and getting some sleep even if neither of them feels particularly tired (a yawn in the middle of a fight is _painful_ ; Buffy has the scar to prove it). The news continues to filter in, though Buffy puts her phone on silent and only checks it when it’s Severin’s turn to sleep.

Josephine texts her directly in what _seems_ like it should be textspeak but also seems like it has been run through a shredder and then attempted to be put back together. It’s more than confusing; it’s practically arcane, and not that magic-type arcane, unfortunately, since she’d have a better time understanding _that_. She gets the sense that she and a few others are looking for the Stand User that had gotten her the first time. But they might also be looking for a few extra things, now. Illyria has joined in in harrying Wolfram & Hart in America, serving as distraction and weakening the forces both, while Riley and a few other soldier types slip in to gather intel while Buffy tries not to worry about the US Government having access to magic. Like, what had they done with Marcie all those years ago, for one? She actually gets a call from Faith, short but final. “Hell _yeah_ I’m helping stop it this time.” It turns out that Sachiko had a cousin who’d gained a Stand while living in the same town as Xander’s grandfather, proving that Disney was right all along and it’s a small world after all. That cousin is more than happy to work with the few Slayers and Witches still stationed in Japan to harry W&H in the country. And it’s a good thing she’s joining in, because while Illyria can handle herself, being an Old One and all, the lawyers are using that Arrow to make an army of a kind they’re not quite used to fighting, as well as recruiting less-than scrupulous Stand Users willing to make a quick buck. She gets a text from a number she doesn’t recognize, too. ‘Yo, cleaning up down under for ya.’ She’d almost think Josephine, except that isn’t her number.

‘Who is this?’ she texts back.

‘Sakura, sorry. Stand User. With Jojo. Didn’t know Umbrella had a legal division but it makes perfect sense. Ugly sons of bitches. Rihan says hi. More than that, but I ain’t typing it all.’

That could refer to any of the Joestars she knows, but weird as it is, it’s also reassuring to know that she has allies across the world, even if they’re weird and she doesn’t actually know them. Or how they got her phone number.

They go out for supplies, and it’s probably paranoid Wolfram & Hart goons that jump them, because on average from what she knows demons and other bloodsucking night fiends don’t like to work together very much. Something about status, blah blah blah. She’d pay more attention if it didn’t make her feel like she was back in high school.

It’s a relief, for a change, to stop having to worry about subtlety or strategy and just beat some heads in. It’s not particularly impressive, or anything, but she saw a baseball bat along the way and picked it up. Given that they’re not fighting humans, there’s no reason to hold back. From how Severin’s acting, he agrees. Even though she hasn’t breathed a word of the whole operation to him. (She’s still not fully sure why, only that he’d seemed happy that they were a team, and she doesn’t want to undermine that. Well, that’s not the full story, only that she needed to trust her Slayer instincts more often, particularly when they were screaming with a microphone in hand.)

Severin mumbles under his breath and sunlight wraps around his hands. It’s not what she’d expected.

Fortunately, these don’t appear to be those weird Turok-han like vamps, that are really hard to kill. Some of them are demons, sure, but they die easily enough when she smacks their head off their neck, which leads her brain to Strange Places. She didn’t need the image of Hank teaching her to hit, only instead of throwing the baseball at her there are demon heads everywhere. Sure, it’s not the weirdest thing she’s ever thought, and not the most disturbing either, but she still prizes the few memories she has of Not Slayer even though she’s never going to be Not Slayer again.

She’d expected, she didn’t know, a ray of light, a blast of light, _something_ along those lines. It reminds her of something, but she’s not sure what. It does explain why him stepping in worried Clare. There was no ranged component to the attack to keep him safe and out of harm’s way.

It’s probably like childhood memories, she reflects as she sidesteps a charging vamp and twists its neck, breathing out to avoid the whole dust problem. Though that’s for normal people, really. It’s not always easy to notice, but Willow and Xander didn’t have a normal childhood, even if they knew, consciously about the supernatural _after_ she did.

He’s also more confident than she’d expected, but then, of course he is. He seems like the type who goes into instinct mode, completely, when fighting. He doesn’t have time to be self-conscious about fighting alongside The Slayer (because even if he’d joked about it, he _was_ intimidated), or think too much about his own inexperience.

It was easier to compare to Dawnie, because while she remembers _not_ living on the Hellmouth, just as Buffy does, that’s not true, and it’s easier to compare the differences. It’s mostly the small things. Dawn and Willow and Xander are just that much more used to the bizarre. Taking things in stride. Just like her, now, as that vamp goes for her neck and she just flips it over her head. They’re not even trying, are they? Or maybe they’re just too good.

She winces a little at the flurry of punches. It looks like it hurts, but then, that _does_ explain why his hands are wrapped like he’s some kind of boxer or something.

He ducks under a grab, punching upward to where the chin will be. The vampire melts, just like the others, all at once and in chunks like it’s being melted by acid and dusting in pieces. It’s not _exactly_ how vampires react to sunlight normally, but any weirdness could easily be explained by magic, since it tends to work oddly and it’s as artificial in the way of sunlight as those UV projector things.

And there are weird assumptions, too, like natural shop hours, or awareness, things like that. Mostly, though, it’s a questioning of anything that looks nice. If it seems too normal, they can’t just accept it. It might be how Xander noticed the issues with the mask first, though that probably had more to do with his family than anything. It might have led to self-sabotage—like that blunder that vampire-demon team’s making. They _think_ they’re being sneaky, coming up on her like that, but if she just backflips out of the way (thanks, rusty-but-not-forgotten cheerleading skills), the demon rips into the vamp with nasty looking claws, and then when the two are trying to figure out what’s going on it’s easy enough to complete the pulverization job and then follow that up with a flurry of bat blows that leave it twitching. Maybe a few more hits?

He’s not smooth, stumbling a little between moves or being a little too clumsy. He leaves an opening that a vamp would be interested in taking advantage, if she didn’t carry a few pencils around just in case. Willow’s little office supply buying binge _did_ come in handy after all. She moves easily into its path, holding the utensil out for the vamp’s momentum to carry it straight into harm’s way. Severin smiles gratefully at her and gives her a thumb’s up before dashing back in. Good ol’ Number Two.


	26. Conspiring by Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Severin take a detour to check on the mask, while Fugo follows orders.

It seems like as good a time as any as when they’re making plans to mention a plan of her own. “Originally, I’d left to try to find a mask,” Buffy explains, trying not to make a mess of her pasta (Severin had ordered for her when she’d mentioned craving pasta; apparently he knows some Italian though according to him his accent is rather poor) on the notes Severin’s made. They’re far more organized than anything she’s ever seen used, other than Andrew’s recipe notes. Willow’s are, but they’re in shorthand usually. Xander’s, whether in school or for demon research, bounce all over the place. She half suspects that he used to rely on caffeine to stay awake. They cover every single suspected Wolfram & Hart location, whether anyone’s still there, how many they saw, whether a fight occurred, what each location was meant to accomplish…all in a very nice handwriting that she secretly envies.

And she suspects he would fit right in with the rest of the Scoobies, given that he appears to have a sneaky sense of humor. She didn’t specify _what_ kind of pasta she wanted, after all, which is why she probably ends up with the black spaghetti or whatever it is. Severin explains it’s squid ink with a confused ‘why is that weird’ air, but she spots the slight smile. Fortunately, her tolerance for food has increased a lot since she became head of an international organization, so it’s just a harmless prank rather than a situation where she doesn’t get to eat. “It can be used to create vampires.”

 _That_ gets Severin’s attention. He goes from slumping in his chair and eating his soup with better manners than anyone she’s met besides maybe Giles to sitting up straight, eyes narrowed. “Is it the original source of vampires?”

“I’m pretty sure destroying it won’t make them all go away, unfortunately,” to which he slumps again, just a little bit, “…and from what I can tell, they create vampires of a different kind than we usually deal with.” He’s serious about wanting to end vampires. Not that she thought he was lying, but recent events have made her a little more paranoid than usual, and if her Slayer dreams hadn’t shown her working with this guy she probably wouldn’t have even bothered giving him the time of day in the first place. 

“If demons could _stop_ making our lives harder than they have to be, that would be greatly appreciated,” Severin sighs, taking another sip of his wine. She had avoided it in the first place because even if it takes a lot to affect a Slayer’s metabolism, she didn’t like to run the risk, especially after that Caveman Buffy thing. If she started feeling weird it was nice to be able to immediately realize she’s been drugged or affected by a spell or something, rather than wonder ‘hey, is this an alcohol thing?’. 

“They’re just kindly trying to make sure we don’t get bored,” Buffy responds with a smile before continuing more seriously, “…It was stolen from archives by one of our Slayers. Supposedly she and her followers were dealt with by allies of the SWC…” because that was by far the easiest way to explain a mafia named Passion, “….and given how fiercely their leader valued her independence they probably weren’t working with Wolfram & Hart, but I’d like to locate the mask for myself and deal with it the permanent kinda way.”

Montreux’s eyes turn steely, dangerous even. He hadn’t been this cold even when they’d been fighting. “I’ve heard it said that all evil needs to win is for good people to do nothing. I’d like to add that it’s a worse situation if good people turn evil.”

“So you’re all right with a detour?” she asks, getting the hint to finish her pasta because—yep, Severin appears antsy again. Like there are actual ants crawling over him. The thought makes a shiver run up her spine, and she makes a quick visual check to determine—yeah, there aren’t actually any insects invading their restaurant time.

“Even if they weren’t working together, if _that_ organization knew of an artifact within arm’s reach, _particularly_ if they were desperate, they’d be more than likely to try to strike and take it.” Even hurried, his table manners don’t take a nose dive. Interesting.

Well, they’ll have to take a boat, but given that it appears Severin has a basic understanding of the language, and the way he suddenly appears not lost anymore but purposeful, driven, even single-minded…there is absolutely no way that will be any obstacle to their progress.

Fugo is a little upset. All right, so it had been a while since he’d been given the go-ahead to use Purple Haze, which always felt like a particularly unsettling relief. The fact that it was an island meant that no one on the mainland would get infected given that the virus couldn’t survive the sun, which is good because after hearing Mista’s story there is absolutely no way he’d want to be compared to that bastard Cioccolata (and even Giovanna had turned a blind eye that one time someone _had_ and he had picked up one of the Don’s expensive pens and stabbed the idiot). 

He had managed to take a vantage point in the ruins, complete with the binoculars and climbing equipment. Giovanna hadn’t outright suggested that, but a few remarks had led to him apparently spontaneously having the thought on his own, which was the way GioGio liked to give commands when he was feeling generous. It is admittedly kind of genius to keep altitude as a factor when he’s attacking during the middle of the day, because it’s not like he’s immune to Purple Haze either (even if the Don _had_ offered to make him immune, too). It’s kind of annoying scrambling over half-broken structures trying to stay within range of his Stand, but that’s the price he pays for having an otherwise good plan, and honestly if it had been a perfect plan without any flaws, he’d find it suspicious anyway. It’s also upsetting with the similarity to Pompeii, but he’s stronger than that.

The plan even manages to go fairly close to, well, plan. Guns are more Mista’s thing, but he takes one anyway, with the Don’s permission. Vampires (which upset his worldview in so many ways, but he can deal with the crisis after he does his duty) require a few more bullets than even a Stand User, but they go down eventually, though he tries to restrict that to the ones that spot him. They’re all hiding from the sun, which makes the binoculars useful.

When he’s done, he calls Giovanna, using a device that allows him to get signal. He’d been instructed not to use it before as it might have drawn unnecessary attention before. “It’s done.”

“Good job.” He’s not sure if GioGio offers this sort of feedback for anyone—wait, yes, he does, for Mista, but he’s not sure if it’s just the two of them. “I would appreciate it if you could look for a mask.”

Fugo’s immediate response is to tell the Don ‘oh, yes, absolutely’, but instead, hesitantly, he points out, “…the virus is still in the ruins.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can still see Purple Haze trying to clean itself obsessively. Ordinarily, he would have put away his Stand immediately, but while this would have easily taken out an entire warehouse full of gangsters, he doesn’t trust a bunch of demons and vampires to be dead. Dead and ash, he should say. Despite the fact that neither he nor his Stand have seen any sign of movement since he dealt with the one he thought to have been the last.

“Does any light source work?” Giovanna questions, and—there he is again, asking just the right questions.

“I could buy something but that’d have to be on the mainland.” He _hates_ having to leave, just for this, but he’s not about to take chances with his Stand.

“Please.” He pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, not sure he heard correctly. That’s _rare_.

Fugo finds the courage from somewhere—if GioGio can act in an unusual manner, so can he. “Why is this important?”

That’s a fond smile in the Don’s voice. For him, and for others. “It’s a request from one who has practically been adopted into the family by Uncle Jotaro and a previously unknown cousin.”

His previous bad mood mostly disappears at the show of trust. Giovanna ends the call, but it doesn’t matter because he has direction once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-senpai doesn’t think Fugo’s quite right here; I laid on the guilt heavy but haven’t actually read Purple Haze Feedback. (I’d read more of these things but I’m scared of sites giving viruses to my computer because I don’t have a Stand to protect myself.)  
> (They’re in Toscana/Tuscany, so Severin got Ribollita, one of the region’s most prized dishes.)  
> ~Dreamer~


	27. The Wind Cries Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Severin arrive on the island and see the aftermath of Fugo's fight.

Buffy hadn’t acted recklessly. Well, no, that’s not right. She hadn’t acted without thinking. That’s closer. She’d paid attention as Giles had detailed the location of the island, and she’d gotten so much better at reading maps than when she was a teenager. Severin seems vaguely impressed at her ability to use a boat, but then, she hadn’t grown up as a Californian kid for nothing. He should know, being a Californian kid too.

“Keep an eye on the water. The last time I fought these Slaypire things they were weird half-animal things, so they could be lurking in the water,” she instructs.

Severin nods and gets all intense. Normally, he’s pretty laid back, nervous even, but when it comes to fighting he gets a Concentration Face on. It works for him, so she’s not about to say anything. “Fortunately, unless they’re really deep my spell should work fairly well in the water.”

There’s a sense of déjà vu about the sunlight thing. Like she’s seen it before. But a lot has happened over the last few months, and she doesn’t want to say anything, even in her own head, until she’s sure.

“That’s handy, but it makes sense in a natural sort of way. Sunlight does get into the water. That’s how you get algae.” That gets a raised eyebrow—which, yeah, okay, maybe that was an inane, obvious thing to say, but it’s how she talks and she’s not changing that for anyone. Especially Giles. It’s funny to see Giles’ reactions, even after all these years. “And they’re going to need to be at the top to attack the boat anyway,” she continues, which makes the eyebrow go back down.

When they finally catch sight of it, Buffy feels a chill go up her spine. It’s probably nothing, since her Slayer senses aren’t screaming, but even the sound of the ocean seems a bit muffled. It’s not the feeling she got when they went down to fight the entire cave of Turok-han. It’s the feeling she got after the fight with the Mayor. They continue on in grim silence, but she makes sure to grab her (weapon) before she steps on dry land again. The island is eerie, silent except for the wind that rustles through the ruins. It’s sun-baked, which seems like a terrible headquarters for a bunch of Slaypires, but then, they hadn’t come across as the most intelligent of opponents. And then she sees the clothes filled with dust. Her brain jumps to that one Batman movie Xander liked, the one where the officials turned into colored sand. Not that he didn’t like all the other Batman movies, but they’re not appropriate here. It’d been funny and stupid then. She’s not laughing now.

There should have only been Slaypires here. She’s long since gotten used to the whole ‘dust in the wind’ thing. Usually, though, the clothes and possessions dust too, unless it’s some kind of magical artifact. It’s the empty clothes, particularly the cute skirt and tank top, that get her. She’d known all of them at one time or another. Some she’d only seen a picture of, some she’d only known to pass in the hallway, some she’d trained specifically, one session or hours. Some she’d worked with. They’d been as good as dead when turned, but even so, the scale hadn’t really hit her before now. Partially because it never even seemed real that there were multiple Slayers. It’s one thing to know, another thing to work with them, particularly since Giles seemed averse to sending any of them out in the field these days. Xander had been the closest in years. It was the newer, less experienced teams doing all the heavy lifting. No wonder Severin had the story he had. How many others had died and Giles just hadn’t shared with the class?

It’s when they get close to the shade in the ruins that they learn they’re not alone. A voice calls out, brusque and threatening, in Italian. When Severin freezes and waves at her to do the same, she stops moving. If this guy managed to take out an entire island of Slaypires, that’s better than she could probably manage on her own. (If she’d managed to funnel them and take only a few at a time, sure, but that’s not what happened here.) There’s a blond with a really strange suit that looks like it’s been attacked by a giant holepunch and a normal tie standing near a boat of his own, what looks like a battery-powered spotlight in his hands. 

Neither she nor Severin speak immediately, so he repeats in English, “I wouldn’t do that if I enjoyed breathing.”

It’s really good English. She should really stop being surprised by that.

“Giorno would probably be upset if you killed us,” she starts cautiously, because she remembers the Passione Boss describing this guy, and she also shouldn’t have been surprised by how powerful this guy’s Stand is. Giorno had offhandedly mentioned that he wouldn’t send this subordinate against Wolfram & Hart because of the danger to the civilian populace, but on an isolated island against the entirety of the remaining Slaypires it was no problem. She’d thought he was arrogant at the time, which wasn’t honestly wrong…but he was also obviously correct. “You’re Fugo, right? I’m the Slayer, Buffy. This is Severin. Thank you for dealing with the Slaypires.”

The blond’s eyes narrow instantly. “You know Don Giovanna.” He’s skeptical, but he’s watching her closely, reading her body language, tone, anything else. Violent, but not an idiot—but then, Giorno probably wouldn’t trust an idiot to this extent. In fact, if someone who didn’t have the intelligence or judgment had a Stand this dangerous, she has a feeling that Giorno would have put them down.

“I worked with him to get information about a branch of Wolfram & Hart.” Passione had been having other issues with them, right? Giorno had been seeking allies to help deal with them in the first place.

Fugo nods and glances at Severin, rattling off another question in Italian. This time, the witch answers back in Italian.

“Nice Neapolitan,” Fugo mutters, before turning back to Buffy, brown eyes still evaluating. “I’ll have to call the Don to confirm. Please stay where you are and don’t touch any of the shadows.”

He takes out a gun and a cell phone, and Buffy nods and doesn’t move. Ordinarily she would hate staying still, but she doesn’t particularly care to tick off someone that strong.


	28. Too Grim to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo decide how to investigate the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting early and beta'd too! Aren't you proud of me?

Buffy’s glad she decided to silence her cell phone, because she has the feeling even if they are a good sprint away, if it rang he might overreact. He seems to be the type with a dynamite-like temper—or maybe he’s just extremely touchy since he’s in what’s essentially a battlefield. She’s never felt that way, probably because her battlefield was where she got groceries and went to school and hung out after it, but maybe it’s more common than she realized, given Severin’s focus in dangerous situations. (And maybe that’s something Giles would remark on, too, that she has no sense of self-preservation—which is completely untrue, because she’s trying not to tick off a dangerous possible ally.)

And yes, it appears the blond has a hair-trigger, because he gestures wildly with the gun hand as he talks but the second either of them move a little (Severin fidgeting because his legs are starting to cramp, for example) he instantly stares at them, gun ready just in case.

Eventually he hangs up. “Hey, Slayer. What did you call Passione?”

A test, huh? “That it sounds like a strip club or a boy band?”

Fugo snorts. “That took guts. Now you’re supposed to show me something from your pockets, assuming you haven’t bought new clothes since you left your headquarters. You didn’t pack.”

Buffy blinks. That’s…she hadn’t even thought about a change, yet anyway. And she’s done something like this before, running out on her own because she can’t deal. Maybe Giles did have a point about her not learning from her past.

She finds a small gold ladybug in her pocket, and for a moment wonders why customs hadn’t found it before it slowly moves, kind of like breathing. This isn’t Egypt, but she still shifts uncomfortably, because it would really suck if she had to cut underneath her skin to get rid of a creepy bug crawling around. They hadn’t noticed it because it wasn’t metal. Not at the time, anyway. Giorno’s power brought it to life.

“Don Giovanna planted that on you. It’s his sign you are who you say you are, to show you’re not an imposter. Keep that safe. He doesn’t give those out to just anybody, you know.” Fugo breathes in deeply and relaxes a little. “He told me to get a mask. I assume that’s why you’re here too. It’s not safe to go into the shadows yet, thus the lights.”

She’s definitely grateful for that, though it’s probably about equally intended to protect her and prevent unnecessary damage to his criminal empire.

“I _should_ be able to help with that,” Severin states thoughtfully. “Though I haven’t used the light spell from a distance before.”

“You maybe should work on that,” Buffy responds. No wonder his girlfriend had thought he was a little reckless.

“Maybe if I used some sort of crystal…” Montreux mutters to himself, reaching for the bag at his side before glancing back at Fugo. “It’s okay to move now, right?”

That reminds Buffy of something, but again, she can’t quite place it.

“I’ve got more work to do. I’m not going to be babysitting you the entire time.” Fugo’s already moving to set the light up.

She’s tempted to ask what’s wrong, how his Stand works, but he’s been quiet enough on that front he’s probably not going to answer. Instead, she just crouches in place, willing herself to be patient. “How long is it going to take?”

The gangster pauses, thinking, before he responds, “I’d say under ten minutes, though I’ll want to be extremely thorough, which could increase the amount of time I need.”

Buffy nods and settles down to wait, checking out her phone in the meantime. It’s more information than she’d expected from him. He seems a little annoyed but quickly moves on to his task, ignoring her. It’s another text from Giles, this one about Fugo’s Stand. Apparently it’s something to do with disease, and he’d actually bugged a witch to give him answers, since Giorno wouldn’t talk about it. She’d started to think shadow control or something—which isn’t ruled out, given how Stands work.

Severin shouts in triumph and shows her a quartz dangling at the end of a necklace. It’s most likely something he’d gotten for his girlfriend, not that she’s going to bring that up. She’s trying to keep him on track, and he’d said that he didn’t especially want to talk about it already. He’s got one of his palms behind it and it’s focusing like a laser or something. She grins and gives a thumbs-up in response.

It turns out that she starts napping, because the next thing she knows, Fugo’s shaking her shoulder. And fortunately she’s better adjusted than some of the Slayers she knows, because she doesn’t elbow him somewhere uncomfortable, first instinct that she’s being attacked. “Figured you’d want to be on hand, just in case it turns out there’s something to punch.”

He’s a little more awkward than angry now, but now that she’s paying attention he’s younger than her.

She smiles and nods. “I do enjoy punching things, thank you.” She takes his hand and lets him help her stand. “Don’t worry, if we don’t find anything to punch, I won’t use you as a punching bag.”

“That’s appreciated,” he responds dryly. They walk over to join Severin.

It might not have the grime of a vampire hangout in a city (seriously, some of the places she’d seen in London made her long for a shower more than the _sewers_ ), but the way the Mohawk Slayer talked she thought the world owed her everything. “This doesn’t make sense,” Buffy informs them, trying not to pay attention to the sand-filled clothes draped everywhere. “Simone—she was the leader of these jerks—she’s not the type to be happy with an HQ like this. She’d wanna go all Bond Villain with it. Hiding out in ruins like a bunch of cornered animals on the run isn’t her style.”

Fugo’s hands involuntarily ball into fists. “I know the type,” he mutters darkly. “They’d tried to get something on the mainland before. We convinced them it wasn’t worth the trouble,” which she mentally translates to ‘Passione and the Slaypires fought before they’d even made it to this island’, “…but I think they talked to those damn lawyers before they left…”

“Hang on, I think there’s a trapdoor here!” Severin calls.

They rush over. “Apparently you were right about your enemy. Guess you might get the opportunity to punch someone after all, and that…well, that isn’t really a laser a scientist would use, but I would imagine it works well enough on vampires. I’m no Mista, but I’m a good enough shot, and I did get some extra ammunition when I bought this,” the gangster pats the light he’s toted to the trapdoor, “…just in case.”


	29. Late All Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo go down into the tunnels on the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~this is about 30% beta'd~~  
>  Now 100% beta'd!  
> faults of my chosen medium: the inability to insert "menacing" everywhere

Fugo doesn’t let either of them head down before the light has been shined down the ladder for what he considers a good amount of time. It’s not other people being afraid of it or Giles’ warning, or even Giorno’s confidence that an island of monsters of the type that wounded _Jotaro_ and probably would’ve wounded her if she wasn’t careful wouldn’t be a problem for this one (though that is a factor). It’s the guy with the Stand itself being this cautious about it that has her not complaining about the time it’s taking. Patience and a Slayer are, generally, non-mixy things. Xander’s honestly worse about it, but still, she’s not winning any awards for it either, but in this case, yeah, sure, twiddling thumbs win over gruesome death every time.

Once they get down there, it’s weird. It’s not super Italian. If anything, it’s Mayan or Egyptian or something. That’s never a good sign, given that the worst crypts were out of place. Except there’s also some metal and railings and walkways and lights. Not that any of them are on, but still. Those are super modern. _Someone_ had been down here.

Strike that, someone had _definitely_ been down here. Recently, even. There’s a Roman statue here, an old painting here. What, was this converted into a bunker by someone? Probably not the Slaypires; the metal looks old. They probably stole it from someone else, which makes sense for a bunch of parasitic vampires. There’s a really cool looking sword there on the side, and she can’t help but grab it. Severin gives her an annoyed glance, but really, who can resist the urge to accessorize? It’s even named, although the P in really old dried blood is a little sketchy. …To be fair, it could end up being cursed, in which case she really is being the dumb blonde, but still.

 _Giles would love this area, honestly_ , Buffy thinks, staring at the walls. They’re very _Indiana Jones_. Or _Tomb Raider_. She can’t make out everything, but she gets the gist of the story: there’s this group of buff demons with really tiny horns compared to the normal demons and otherwise don’t really look like demons wearing basically just underwear living in cool-looking stone structure, then over time there are less buff mini-horn demons living there in the next panel, and so on. Some cool buff female demon talks to a buff demon with a cloak or cape or something kneeling, and she’s sitting in what looks like maybe a throne, so she’s probably a queen, or some kinda leader anyway. Then he’s got something that he presents to her, only she doesn’t look happy, and there’s not a follow-up, just a gap on the wall.

Except that something looks extremely familiar. “Severin,” she states quietly, and he walks over, illuminating it with the crystal-laser-flashlight, and yeah, she’s not just seeing things. Or, yeah, do they call it a torch in Italy like they do in England? 

His jaw clenches and his hand shakes a little. “Is this what it looks like?”

“I definitely didn’t see anything like that,” Fugo explains, appearing behind her, and she’s lucky she’s got Slayer senses or she would’ve jumped at the lack of warning. He’d found it interesting, too—though she supposes he’s here to support Giorno’s cause, not hers, and thus can’t just take her at her word any more than she can take him at his, without proof that is. “I can’t say for sure, but I think Don Giovanna would support destroying it. His suggestions were to get it to give it to someone, and given his comments about you, it was probably going to go to you. I’m sick of dealing with these zombie freaks, and having mutated agents that can’t be in the sun wouldn’t be useful. Plus if it messes with the intelligence or personality, they’d be more trouble than Minestrone.”

Most people would find this area unsettling, what with the fact that the only light comes from Severin’s spell and Fugo’s light source. It feels nostalgic instead, but then, this from the girl whose usual afterschool hangout was a graveyard. 

Still, if she had been Simone, she would be hiding down here. She’d have an army around ready to ambush anybody coming down. And—actually, hey, that’s a good point. Slaypires are just as likely to pick up cool weapons as Slayers are. Unfortunately, it doesn’t give evidence either way, because either it’s a trap, in which case of course it’s out in the open, or it’s a neat magical anti-vampire sword, in which case of course it’s out in the open.

“Well, I’m destroying it, I don’t care,” Buffy declares, waving the sword a little as a demonstration. Not too close to the others, of course. Hitting her allies accidentally would be a problem. “I’ve been fighting vampires for a lot longer than you have and I can tell you from experience they’re rarely worthwhile.”

“Rarely?” Severin asks, a little judgingly, and she sighs. She hasn’t meant to go into that, particularly—it’s still too recent.

“Sometimes they exist without trying to hurt others, but we’d never see those ones. And the ones that still have their souls still…I dunno, have their moral compass?” She thinks briefly about everything she’s learned, and adds, disagreeing with previous Giles statements, “It’s not that they lose their intelligence or personality—well, not for traditional vampires. For traditional vampires it just gets rid of inhibitions. Like, you’re drunk all the time.” Buffy makes a face. Memories of Drunk Buffy bad. “And Simone and some of the other Slaypires kept their personality. …Not sure about the vampire monster dogs.”

That earns a very confused look from Severin as they continue to walk down the dark spooky corridor and she keeps her eyes and senses open. Which, she’s not going to even bother trying to explain that. It would just sound ridiculous. You’d have to actually experience it to understand it.

“Well, if they’re still this annoying to kill, I’m okay with preventing more assignments like this,” Fugo agrees.

“If you don’t destroy it, I will,” Severin adds, voice dark and actually a little scary. “If I could destroy all of the vampires with one strike, I would.”

That’s…troubling. Because Spike is still on their side, and they had found a few vampires who weren’t into nonconsensual blood drinking—as much as she hated the idea of those blood brothels or whatever. Willow’s research had discovered that those were set up by intelligent vampires trying to avoid conflict with Slayers or humans. The ones who can play by the rules can exist without being bothered. This is Riley’s anti-Oz all over again. Not that she doesn’t get it; losing someone you love was half the reason Xander was such an ass early on. Still, the middle of a tiny corridor that would make a really easy ambush point is not the place to have that argument.


	30. Keep Digging Your Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo go down into the tunnels on the island.

Buffy, Severin, and Fugo continue to not be ambushed, which puts Buffy more and more on edge. And then she starts noticing the blood. There’s not a lot, and it’s nearly dried from the feel of it under her boots—but it’s still a little sticky. At least it’s on the bottom, which is easier to clean.

Who would have been the source, though? It’s not common for vampires to be bleeding unless whoever’s fighting them isn’t very good and keeps not going for killshots, and she’s not sure if she’s ever seen one of the Mask-Vampires bleed (scream in pain, yes, bleed…not that she can remember; which in general means they’re cleaner monsters even if they _are_ annoyingly harder to kill). And Fugo’s fine. He definitely didn’t look like he had any wounds. They also wouldn’t waste blood by pouring it on the ground, so seriously, where would it have been from?

And then there’s a few instances of clothes, like some of the Slaypires had run from Fugo’s attack, and ash, inside the clothes and also on its own, which indicates sunlight or…yeah, beheading isn’t always enough to get rid of those Mask Vamps, which is worrying in itself, and yeah, a fight had happened here, more than just Fugo wiping everybody out, which makes it worse. In her own experience, barring massively impressive distance fighting techniques the Slaypires were pretty dangerous, so getting hurt fighting them makes complete sense, but she can’t think of anyone else who would even know about them let alone want them all dead.

She makes a remark about the waste of ruining clothes like that in the space of her own mind, but she knows herself well enough to know she’s trying to distance herself from the fact that she’d met most of these ladies, sometimes a lot more than that. Like that blue butterfly print dress—she can probably dig up a woman’s name attached if she thinks hard enough, but she refuses instead because her trauma’s already bad enough and honestly most of them should probably be in therapy. They cope with having Sunnydale Mindset and refusing to take things seriously as a time-saving shortcut.

The corridor opens up into a room, surprisingly roomy. What is this, bigger on the inside or something? Are they underneath the water now? They have to be unless the architecture is non-Euclidean. Or whatever the Lovecraftian equivalent is. Honestly, Willow had tried to get both her and Xander into the books, and in a rare moment of full honesty for them both, Buffy had agreed with Xander that she preferred the dumb movies she could mock because she got enough of the serious side of things in daily life. There’s more of the blood, there’s more ash and against the column (which is a surprisingly sensible bit of architecture for somewhere that seems to have been built by the Mad Warlock or something), there’s a body propped. It’s sitting oddly and isn’t breathing, so it’s dead. The question is, what kind? Non-breathing but willing to wreck shop dead, or actual not-gonna attack dead?

And then she sees the pink hair in what used to be a well put-together Mohawk and knows exactly who it is. Was? She’s still trying to work through the implications of vampirism and personality. 

“Careful of gun,” Buffy rushes to say, just in case, because Slayer Healing or no Slayer Healing, her arm still hurts, particularly when she thinks about it. Fugo doesn’t even hesitate; he fires two shots into Simone’s wrists directly. He’s a little sloppy and she still flinches, just a little bit. Guns are still loud. Particularly for those with better hearing than your average human-shaped being. If she’s honest with herself, which she prefers to avoid, if she wasn’t in front of an enemy in a possibly-battle type situation she’d feel comfortable about losing it just a little, but not right now. Probably just a case of bad memories where guns are involved (it hadn’t bothered her when they were fighting earlier), but she doesn’t want to repeat the experience, or have anyone else dying on her watch. Again. Partly because people getting hurt is bad, partly because friends trying to destroy the world is never a recommended experience.

Simone struggles to raise her head and grins, bloody and mocking. She’s not getting up. She hadn’t even moved other than the obvious when Fugo’d shot, other than the obvious physics-based stuff. It’s honestly slightly oogy to think about, but she’s probably paralyzed from the neck down, for the moment anyway. The only reason she wouldn’t be getting up to fight them now is that she _can’t_. Breaking the spine kills most vampires, but Mask-Vamps are different. Even now, she might be healing. “You’re too late. Wolfram & Hart beat you to it. The mask is gone.”

Severin kneels down next to her, looking seconds away from shaking her like a rag doll. His left hand is in a fist, while his right clutches tightly onto the death laser jewel of doom. Both are shaking. “What the hell would they need the Mask for? They’ve already got demons to do their bidding, demons a lot tougher than even the toughest vampire.” Fugo’s got the gun ready, and Buffy’s trying to look as casual as she can with her new and very shiny toy.

“They’ve also got Stand Users, which is usually a little more predictable in result as long as you’re okay with a few casualties,” the gangster adds, quiet but menacing.

The Slaypire laughs derisively. It’s grating and does nothing to cover up the death rattle sound. “None of you did your homework, didja? I don’t know about the other two, but your keeper would be disappointed in you, Oh Great Leader of the Slayers.”

Severin makes an active effort to control his frustrated breathing, and Buffy pointedly makes a show of casually waving around the sword. By the way Simone doesn’t grin like she got something over on Buffy, she’s pretty sure the sword _isn’t_ actually a trap, though of course she can’t be sure until some witch looks it over. Maybe when they have a down moment Severin can look over it. In fact, she looks a little scared, in the absolutely trying to keep her enemies from noticing way. So the sword probably actually is useful. Probably.

Still, she tries to make a quip that falls hollow anyway. “Sure, I’ll let you cheat off mine.” She coughs up more blood. Which…why _would_ anyone leave her behind, alive? To try to deal with any who might follow? Because surely whoever it is would have to know that she’d heal. “It’s needed for the Ascension ritual for the ones that made the vampires. Who knows if it’ll actually work as intended, since the creator and Queen had a few different ideas about it, but I’m not going to chicken out.”

“You won’t get the chance.” Severin glances at Buffy, and yeah. She’ll think of questions later, upset that she didn’t think to ask but at the moment there isn’t anything else, and this needs to be dealt with. She nods, and he mutters again, light gathering at his palms and focusing through the jewel. Simone melts like the others, sneering ‘till the very end.

Fugo sounds like he’s cursing under his breath in Italian.


	31. Walk You Through the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo keep exploring the island's tunnels.

The next step, obviously, is to stop them. But finding baddies hiding out in Sunnydale is so much easier than chasing villains across the globe. The entirety of the world is just a little bit bigger of a hiding place. Particularly when they’re not kind enough to just hang out in the graveyard like everyone else.

She glances up at Fugo. “Where would they be going?”

Severin snorts. “Like he’d know. He didn’t even see them.” Montreux seems restless again, fingers moving to music apparently only he hears. There’s a bit of Faith, too—he’s apparently high on the death of a vampire, and while it’s understandable it’s also destructive and unnerving because Buffy’s seen exactly where that goes. It’s nowhere of the good.

She sees the murder enter the gangster’s eyes even as his hand clenches and quickly moves to correct him. She knows how guys get when they’re being stupid, and good guys don’t win by fighting each other or playing the blame game. “Of course not. He would’ve stopped them if he had.” The look on Fugo’s face is mostly shocked, but he settles down just a little. “But he knows the country—and the local office—best. We don’t even know where it is.”

Fighting a couple on the street doesn’t exactly make them experts, particularly when none of them were interested in the epic role of being an interrogee.

“Mista’s been itching to shoot them since they humiliated him. I would’ve been better in court, but I wasn’t there. I hear he saved a tourist and then, a couple months later with actual permission,” he looks vaguely irritated at that point—she can’t tell if he thinks this Mista was wasting Giorno’s time or if he was mad the man didn’t ask for an okay in the first place, “…he took down a couple of the local offices—with Sheila E’s help. There are a few minor ones, and we don’t have a big presence in Toscana, other than that _figlio di puttana_ Capperi so we haven’t dealt with this one yet.” He dissolves into further muttering that is probably not complimentary.

“I’m sure he’s a truly awful person, but where is it?” she prods gently, and he glares a little but gets back on subject.

“I can take you there,” the gangster explains, quickly moving toward the rest of the room, “…but we should make sure we’re not missing anything. I don’t want to let any pests behind.”

“We’d make a pretty interesting extermination company,” Severin agrees, reasonable and apologetic again—though Buffy can’t be sure the bloodlust is gone. “ _Disinfestazione_ something-or-other.” He stands, wiping dust onto his already dusty pants. “I’m…sorry; I shouldn’t have disrespected your abilities like that. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

The gangster looks briefly taken aback before nodding. “I accept and realize it’s hard to do. Don’t repeat it.”

“Easy enough,” Severin agrees.

They run across a few other merely-severely-damaged and already healing vamps. One of them actually sticks their fingers into Fugo’s arm opposite the elbow, somehow without actually breaking skin, undeterred by the bullets Fugo calmly unloads into its skull. It’s too close for Buffy to use her new best friend (she’ll have to come up with a good name for it), so it’s Severin’s crystal laser to the rescue. It also turns out that, unlike with most weapons, this new sword works pretty well, cutting through the neck as smooth as butter. Of course, even _that_ doesn’t fully kill the things, but it deals with them long enough for Montreux’s light spell or the bulky, annoying but useful UV lamp Fugo continues to lug around to do the rest. A few rooms either open up in the corridor, or are those bulky metal doors that Buffy would’ve appreciated when she was young because she wouldn’t have accidentally broken _these_ when she was still getting used to Slayer strength. There are a couple of papers that from a quick glance suggest they contacted a rogue group of W&H cronies (probably of the mistaken opinion that rogues would be more sympathetic to their cause) whose leader is undisclosed (at least they were kinda smart there) to try to negotiate an alliance against Passione. It had obviously backfired against them. She grabs them and stuffs them in a duffel bag just lying in one of the rooms. She’ll need something to put the sword in, anyway.

A couple of the Mask-Vamps look like they’ve been attacked with a buzzsaw, which is just overkill. Okay, yeah, she’s had fantasies about using a saw on vamps, and then comes to her senses because the demon with them would attack, blood or ichory goo would get everywhere and be impossible to clean, and she agrees, yeah, okay, the old standbys are fine after all. Though the angle is weird…

“Did you forget how to attack vampires?” Severin asks, disintegrating the vampire before her eyes, and she tries not to growl in response because, well, one, she’d come off as weird and creepy that way, and two, she’s not sure he wouldn’t attack her in his trigger happy state, thinking she’d been turned, or whatever. Never mind it took a bit longer than that, for the newly turned to wake up if nothing else. It feels like another ‘hurr hurr you dated a demon’ dig.

“Puh-lease, this isn’t actually a fight.” On occasion they’ve tried to fight back but it’s nothing like the giant flying manta ray thing. “Just trying to see if we can figure out anything about our next fight before we get there.”

“Looks like a laser on this one—not like yours, though, Signor Luce. Don Giovanna told me Signorina Summers’ name, but I wasn’t given yours,” Fugo adds from a little ways down the corridor. It’s a slight scolding for not introducing themselves. He’s posing seemingly subconsciously as he waits for the light to slowly cook another one. “It’s likely that Wolfram & Hart has created Stand Users with that damned Arrow.” 

“Apparently they’re also recruiting other Stand Users,” Buffy responds, at the same time as Severin introduces himself. “Signor Montreux. I see. Are they poaching Passione members?” They’re both temperamental. The thought of betraying Giorno seems to really bother him, and violence is just lurking below the surface. 

“Not…as far as I know?” Though she hadn’t really heard anything to _counteract_ that claim either, and if that was how it happened, it would easily explain how Giorno had learned of all that in the first place. “All I know is that the test to join involves killing his cousin or one of his friends. I’m one of his friends.”

That gets most of Fugo’s interest, though he shoots the Mask-Vamp in the face as she tries to rush him. Buffy tries, again, not to react. “I…I’m curious and really want to ask, but since the Don didn’t mention it I’m not going to push.”

“Oh, if you wait long enough it’ll probably come out. That’s how things work in my experience,” Severin responds cheerfully, as Buffy finds the end of the corridor and a ladder.

“I’m going to see where this goes,” she calls behind her and climbs up. The funny thing is, on this side, it looks like a manhole cover. She pushes it up, and—yeah, this doesn’t look like an island, anymore. It looks like a mainland. Which means the tunnel probably went under the water. “Convenient.”


	32. Frightened by My Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo seek answers at the local Wolfram & Hart office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guanciale’s appearance is largely a pun based on the fact that the word is derived from guancia, the Italian word for ‘cheek’. Also, Fugo continues to swear.

Fugo isn’t sure how to treat them, she can tell, because he keeps alternating between awkward silence and an incredibly detailed explanation of all the ways Passione could go after Wolfram & Hart. Both he and Severin continue to burn hot and cold at each other, largely as their impatience and then tempers get the better of them before they both remember they’re both supposed to be polite people. The architecture’s interesting, and Giles would be playing tour guide at this point, but Fugo’s not Giles by any means. She’s not actually surprised the criminal’s opting to talk about attempting to drive what could be just rivals if not for the fact that she’s pretty sure Giorno means well, though it is kind of a surprise he knows so much about the legal system (except, well, duh, it would make sense for the people breaking the law to know what it is and how it works) and mentions violence as an option as little as he does (meaning less than every other sentence, which is what she’d expected). Giles would be out of breath, what with all the hills. Fortunately, both of her current companions seem to be in good shape. On the other hand, it means they’re more likely to do damage if they do get to the point of actually hitting each other.

“Okay, so I’ve seen some crime movies, and I’m still not clear on this.” Better she keep distracting them both because she’d really like her backup to remain in one piece. They take a turn down what seems like a blind alley, but from what little she’s seen several Italian cities are like that, close cities with cobblestones and staircases out of nowhere. Pretty, but confusing. “So, are you allowed to just kill whoever, or…?”

Fugo flushes a little and can’t seem to decide whether he wants to be offended or embarrassed by the question. He finally settles on a confused glare. “Well, no, of course not.”

“How does it actually work?” she prods. Okay, yeah, she’s curious and it’s a good distraction, but also she _might_ be having a little fun with this, too.

Fugo continues leading them unerringly. He might have claimed they didn’t have much to do with Tuscany, but at the very least Mr. Braniac over there memorized a map first.

“Our Capo or the Don can give us permission. Otherwise it’s our discretion, as long as it’s for an objective such as carrying out the orders we’ve been given, but while wounds don’t actually tend to draw unwanted attention, dead bodies do. We have an understanding with the police, of course, but there’s only so much as a whole they can be asked to turn a blind eye towards. Individual policemen are one thing, but when the morgue and potentially reporters get involved, it’s much harder to deal with. And if innocent civilians get involved, well…Don Giovanna’s last extravagant show of power was last year when he had to discipline one of the Capos, Guanciale, when he had several innocent casualties and then dared to be flippant about it.” That’s an interesting way of thinking about it, and apparently he’s not exaggerating about the extravagant show of power because while he’s not going into detail his gesturing got more expressive. “I have a useful method of disposing of evidence easily…” he’s probably talking about his Stand, given the ash-piles she’d seen even in the shadows and underground, “…but others aren’t so lucky. Mista, for example, has to use his brain a lot more than he’s used to doing.” That is _definitely_ a smirk.

“So what about Wolfram & Hart?” Maybe she’s playing up the Valley Girl. Just a little bit. It’s fun, what can she say? Even as she’s keeping up, but she’s done the whole mixed message thing before.

“Given how annoyed the Don has been, I’ve been waiting for him to deal with it himself.” Fugo shrugs. “If you’re asking, ‘have I killed before’, yes. I don’t regret it. I’ll probably do it again. I definitely wouldn’t have a crisis of conscious over one of those _stronzi_. Not with my Stand. Using it here would make me no better than Cioccolata, _may he live the greatest sorrow, to remember joy in his wretchedness as he burns amidst his brethren trash_.” Buffy blinks, trying for a second to figure out whether she actually did hear that in English, and Fugo shrugs. “I need to practice my English, too.” Actually, she has the feeling he’s messing with her back, given that his English so far has been a bit formal but otherwise perfect and he doesn’t even have an accent, but whatever, that’s fine. “At least I have my gun, for demons and vampires, and a knife for the humans. Is there a point to this?”

“…I don’t kill humans.” It’s not part of her job description, and she absolutely doesn’t want to become Faith, even if she has gotten better.

“Even if they’re trying to kill you?” Fugo asks, dumbfounded, hand twitching again.

“ _I_ won’t hesitate,” Severin declares darkly, but before she can respond…

Fugo just disappears. It takes even her Slayer senses a second to understand what’s going on. He’s stuck a step behind them and he’s screaming.

Instantly she freezes—her instincts say not to move, so she doesn’t. She throws out a hand, and to his credit Severin stops midstep, too. Together they turn to look at Fugo, shaking out of control like he’s been electrocuted, except there’s something white by his feet and what looks like electricity running over his arm, if electricity was little cut pieces of paper. It’s strange enough it has to be a Stand. _Well, hopefully your little tutorial in fighting these things worked, Jotaro_.

There’s a slow, mocking clap, and she glances back to find a woman leaning casually against one of the buildings a small distance away. “Those are some pretty good instincts, _Slayer_.”

Buffy manages a grin, because while the situation is somewhat dangerous now in that they don’t know how it works, their attacker seems to be underestimating her, too. “You know, I’m confused by all the people who try to use my title as an insult. Maybe it’s supposed to make me all insecure about the fact I might turn out like Faith, but all it does is remind me I’m badass and my enemies see me for what I am.” There’s something seethrough standing in the shadows between it and the next building. Probably the Stand. So she’s got both targets in sight, and one will affect the other, which is at least convenient.

“You know, you’ve also got guts. Just like some friends of yours.” She glances at the bat in her hands. She’d embedded some glass in it somehow. That’s really going to hurt. If the woman gets a hit in, but at least she’s not a Slayer. She shouldn’t move as fast, and Buffy should also (theoretically) be more strong and durable, too. “Weren’t doing so well, last time I saw them.”

 _Damn_ , Evil Lawyer Lady knows what she’s doing. She’s trying to get Buffy to lose her temper and charge, and it just might work, too, but she can at least be smart about this whole thing.


	33. Two is for the Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Severin, and Fugo have to deal with the new threat.

It hurts, listening to Fugo scream. Okay, sure, so she’d only just met him, and barely knows him. He’s a hardened criminal and admitted he’d already killed people. Doesn’t feel bad about it, even. He’s a blond ticking time bomb when he’s not being awkward and cagey and freakishly intelligent (seriously, that bookishness would mean he could carry on a conversation with Giles, Willow, _and_ Andrew in full research mode, yikes).

The uncomfortable thought is that Giorno probably has killed people, in cold blood even, and while she’s sure he only acted as he thought he had to, that doesn’t mean that he’s necessarily _right_. There could have been alternatives. She doesn’t know. Of course, that probably also means that she doesn’t have the right to be all judgey about it. The world of the mafia is probably a kill-or-be-killed world, and even if they’d had mercy, that doesn’t mean their Big Bads would’ve extended them the same courtesy, or whatever. She’ll do them the courtesy of just kind of ignoring it, minus the fact that she probably has to tell Dawnie the half-vampire relative of Xander she’s currently crushing on is probably a killer, and not in the Slayer kind of way.

That doesn’t mean, in any way, that she wishes ill on them. Either of them. And if someone is causing that, well, she’s gotta do something. Heroes have a complex, after all. (Heroine? Except the pronunciation is still super wiggy, and she’s getting sidetracked again.)

She’s not sure how long normal humans can take being electrocuted, but she knows, vaguely, that even the shocking machines to restart the heart aren’t even supposed to be left on for too long. Sure, Stand-Ghost Humans are a bit less squishy than your average human variety, but they’re usually not, still, on her level. Not directly. It’s their Stands that can be armored tanks or statues or whatever. She can’t directly remember anyone that tried to kill her with electrocution (well, no, that’s not true, she has vague memories of the school showers and a hair dryer meant for her, but that could totally have been a dream)….point is, she hasn’t actually experienced that. She doesn’t think. But it would still hurt.

Nonconductive. She doesn’t fully remember now, but…

 _Sorry, tree_. “Distract her!” she yells at Severin. Both of them look ridiculous, like they’re in some sort of wacky public performance, but fights for your life don’t always look as serious as they actually are. She crouches as much as she can manage standing on one foot, then propels herself to what looks like a safe spot next to a tree, awesome new sword already slicing a path through the air.

“Easy for you to say, particularly when she’s standing _right there_ to hear your plans, Sun Tzu…” Severin growls loudly, and okay, yes, her plan is more of an outline and has a few flaws, but she’s working on a deadline set by Mrs. Jackson, here. Brr, essays.

He’s found a few knives from somewhere (maybe when they were searching the Ominous Corridor of Doom and Disappointment, she hadn’t been paying attention at that point) and is throwing them. His accuracy actually seems decent, considering she hears a whoosh of breath following a thud and comes to the conclusion that he’d managed to hit. The giant creepy sound of cutting shears frenzily cutting from the alleyway is kinda ominous, but she doesn’t have time to do more than up her attention to her general Slayer danger senses, since she kind of has to concentrate. Even if she manages to make this look easy, it is _not_ in any way, shape or form, and she really didn’t think she’d be able to put ‘danced through a minefield’ on her resume, any time soon or really ever.

Fortunately, the landing part of the plan goes off without a hitch. Also the “cutting through the branch” part of the plan, which is as smooth as butter. She likes this sword. She’s keeping it, no matter what the world thinks. She turns easily, catching the branch in her hand (she’s dual-wielding now!) and starts off on her chosen path. It’s annoyingly longer than she’d like, because the stupid little pieces of paper are closer together, not even giving her a window to jump in places, on the side facing her, and rescues are only of use when the rescuer doesn’t die in the attempt before they even get to the rescuee (or, Exhibit B of Badness, get their leg blown off before they even get there).

Blown off seems more likely, given that she very nearly misses one of the landings and has to poke one of the land-mines before her foot would hit it. It’s not a _huge_ explosion, in that it wouldn’t vaporize her instantly, but it’s nothing to sneeze at either. 

The next part is tricky, given that she’s missing half of her new stick friend. Plus, it’s just generally hard, but Buffy will do what she can. She hopes, desperately, that what she’s remembering is right and that wood is actually not conductive compared to, say, a shiny cool new sword that would work in other situations but not this one. The rest is a matter of timing and strength. Mostly.

Also, Fugo not being actually dead at this point, and at least not hindering her too much. Do people still twitch around for a while after being hit with electricity? Movies say yes, but as she pointed out to a panicking Xander, movie logic is not always real world logic.

Well, she’ll find out in a second, because every second she delays is more damage to Fugo’s heart or brain or something. Sword is going in the duffel bag hanging at her back and as tightly secured as she can make it because she really, really doesn’t want to drop her new accessory for several reasons, including but not limited to how nice it feels to fight with it and the face Giles will make when she brings it back and asks if she can keep it.

The wooden stick arcs in a baseball swing and knocks Fugo flying. There’s a brief jolt, so either she was wrong about the wood or—maybe something about freshly cut wood? But on the other hand it didn’t start burning, which is only of the good, because now that she’s gotten to that point she realizes she hadn’t even considered that maybe happening. At the same time, she jumps. Fugo’s really lucky she’s a Slayer, because she _barely_ manages to catch him midair, keep a hold on him through the residual twitching, and land in a clean space devoid of any lurking paper. She doesn’t glance at the explosion behind them, merely sending a silent prayer on behalf of the valiant sacrifice of cut branch; she hardly knew thee. Fugo’s movements have become purposeful, if feeble. He’s glare-pouting and pulling a little on her shirt. As if he’s in any state to fight.

“Look, you’ve still got your gun, right? Only pull the trigger when you’ve got better aim than a Stormtrooper. You’re in no state now.” Spend too long around the nerds and you’re infected for life.

She turns to see that both Severin and Evil Lawyer Lady have paused their struggle for a moment to stare at her, jaws wide and eyes confused.

“What the _hell_?” Severin breathes.

“Do I have to kill you to get you to stop stealing my lines?” Evil Lawyer Lady responds, and they start moving again.


	34. The Face of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy goes straight for the enemy Stand.

Buffy, luckily, has a sword in a bag and an ace up her sleeve. Jotaro’s pink-haired friend mentioned more than once something about “only Stands” being able to hurt other Stands like it was common knowledge. In general, apparently her ability to see them without having one herself is really, really weird, which is why Kakyoin kept insisting she was going to develop a Stand any day now. She noticed that while Jotaro didn’t say anything to the contrary (he’s not really the type to babble like the Scoobies), he _did_ mutter “yare yare daze”, which apparently means anything from “give me a break” to “good grief” in normal conversation. Since it seems like his catchphrase that he uses all the time, with different tones and slight differences in expression, it’s pretty likely it has an even wider variation on meaning. The slight smile coupled with standing awkwardly she _thinks_ means that he finds his friend amusing in a fond way but doesn’t entirely agree. It’s pretty clear that the world is bigger than just Stands when he’s not fazed by the idea of vampires even though wrapping his brain around “Vampire Slayer” was a little more difficult. She wouldn’t mind swinging through the city like Spiderwoman, particularly when the whole town’s invaded by gargoyles, but it also seems kind of obvious to her that it’s _not_ going to happen when she hasn’t been hit by one of those Stand Arrows. If there’ another way of unlocking that power, it hasn’t been mentioned. It’s possible Kakyoin’s just the weird one with certain ideas about how Stands work, but if not, that’s a lot of people, including Evil Lawyer Lady, who expect that since she’s taken out the “only person with a Stand” that they’re safe as long as their opponents don’t go for the human squishy on the other end. (Well, okay, no, that might not be a binary, he might be weird _and_ typical as a person with a Stand, too.) 

So if it’s weird and unexpected, what she can do (what else about her life is new), might catch the enemy by surprise, particularly if she _actually_ pulls it off successfully. She’s slightly less worried about actually being able to get close to it and pulling off her end, of course. She’d managed to pull off punching Star Platinum in the stomach, after all, so it’s not like she doesn’t know she’s capable, and Jotaro had definitely been surprised but had shrugged it off pretty quickly. She’s more concerned about the thing being as durable as a Turok-han or Slaypire, because that’s a definite possibility, but she’ll play Little Miss Arsonist when she gets to that bridge and they won’t let her cross. It’s better to try to hurt it than wring her hands and go all helpless Valley Girl about dealing with idiots.

Now that Fugo’s out of harm’s way as much as it’s possible to be in the middle of a battlefield, it’s time for her to move on to step two. Time to pull the sword out again.

She keeps some attention near her feet, because she’s not fond of the idea of losing a leg and those _stupid paper traps_ are everywhere and it’s _annoying_ that she can’t get right into it and get it over with. Occasionally, just to confuse people, she likes to exercise some of that self-preservation Giles would occasionally accuse her of not having as the better part of bravery, or whatever.

Even then, she can hear the ominous ticking. The kind of ominous ticking you’d hear when you’d get super focused on the sound of the clock during tests because everyone was actually quiet for once and it just kept getting louder and more final like “I am counting down to your F”. It’s a good thing she got used to working under pressure because after facing down things trying to kill her on a daily basis one bad grade wasn’t the end of the world anymore. The creepy clacking of the giant-type garden shears echo down the alleyway. She risks a glance to get a better glimpse (just to make sure she’s not hitting, say, a bomb but actually the Stand) than just a dark figure in the alleyway and definitely gets a better glimpse. Goggles, no expression, ticking gears, cutting little tiny pieces of paper freakishly quick with the _shears_ without somehow snapping its fingers off (what a weird Stand) but otherwise being completely still in an unnatural way. Yep, Stand, all right. So, yeah, it might end up being a terrible idea that melts the cool sword or something, but she’s not accidentally setting off a bomb or anything.

So she swings the sword at the arm holding the shears.

It looks a little smug, maybe (it’s hard to tell from a thing without a mouth), right up until the point where the sword starts cutting. And either the Stand is weak, or this sword is _incredibly awesome_ , or maybe both, because the only reason she doesn’t cut through the entire arm like it’s butter is that it’s sped, jerky and inhuman, to the other end of the alley, where it stands, staring blankly, but if she’s not wrong it’s alarmed. Which, fair. If you think you’re a ghost and out of nowhere something hits you, she’d find that a little disconcerting, too. It looks like it’s bleeding oil of some kind, at a steady drip drip drip that matches the ticks of the bronze clock next to its pouch.

She hears a scream of rage and fury and pain coming from the direction of Evil Lawyer Lady and Severin. “How the hell can you touch Three Days Grace?” 

“Good job! I don’t know what you did, but her arm’s barely hanging on! Keep going!” Severin yells over the harsh breathing and ragey vibes the Wolfram & Hart lady is putting out.

“That’s the plan!” Buffy yells back.

She takes a step forward and hears a click. _Crap._ She’d thought that it’d fled in a panic, that it hadn’t had time to do anything on the way to the end of the alleyway. Apparently she was wrong about that. Luckily, she’s pretty sure it’s not a landmine. As far as she knows, mere pressure sets off one of those, as opposed to the presence and then _absence_ of pressure, and her little experiment with the stick (RIP) indicates that’s right, so…it’s something new. That she will deal with as best she can, which is pretty good, because, hello, Slayer.


	35. Caught Up in This World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy deals with the next trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the lasers are inspired by RE4 why do you ask which may or may not have come out in the year this is set I’m still not 100% sure whether it’s 2004 or 2005. (intentional runon is intentional)

Buffy finds out that it is, in fact, something new, the instant the lasers fizzle into existence. Andrew would be all over this; he’s already pouted enough because they wouldn’t let him have a physics lab in the middle of Slayer HQ. Buffy is utterly disturbed by the idea that she’d somewhere along the line become the responsible one, because while she’d been excited by the prospect of shiny laser weapons she had been forced to come to the conclusion that having that in the middle of a bunch of Slayer Trainees would end up with someone needing first aid or blinded—and no, just because they could fix a lot of those wounds through the witches doesn’t mean they _should_ —you never knew when a wound, like Xander’s eye, would just _stick_ and stubbornly refuse to heal.

The angry lasers hiss slightly, like a malfunctioning hot stove, and there’s also a buzzing sort of noise, too. It’s fortunate that she’d kept up her gymnastics routines even when she wasn’t in cheerleading anymore because it just might save her life. They’re not all parallel; some are at odd angles, including a couple projecting from the cobbles of the alleyway, which is an interesting thing to note because it means that Evil Lawyer Lady, or her Stand rather, can’t fix the traps in the air, or it would have done so already and aimed one straight at her. And they have to set the traps off somehow; it wasn’t able to just turn on a moat of sharks by itself, for instance. Just like demons, Stands have rules, and the quicker she can find those rules to defeat the enemy the faster they’ll get through this.

It smells of ozone, metallic but also clean somehow, and she briefly wonders what the energy source even would be for something like that before discarding the thought. It doesn’t matter. They’re red and bright and would almost look like a bunch of evil lightsabers but for the sparks coming off the opposite walls and for the fact that it looks like not only are the disks projecting the lasers made out of folded paper but if she’s not mistaken it looks like there’s a very small, long cylinder of rolled paper in the center of each one. The lasers are actually cutting through the brick, which does not lead to things of the good happening to her actual body in her imagination should they actually touch her.

While she’s got time, she stuffs the sword back in the bag and takes that off her back, because the last thing she needs is for it to flop around and get melted or something. She needs as much control over the thing as she can get.

She barely finishes that before the lasers start to move toward her, slowly at first, and that’s another unpleasant surprise—first of all that the traps can _move_ , though this might be an unusual one for all she knows, and second that that also means they can move in all sorts of nasty patterns that make the act of the living a lot harder.

They split up mostly by speed, the front group of which there are barely any just picking up speed faster and faster until they’re barreling toward her. Fortunately a step forward combined with a sidestep makes that group a piece of deadly cutting radiation cake, and the next one a simple cartwheel does the trick, though she barely manages to squeeze into the gap. If not for Slayer instincts and abilities on top of her cheerleading experience, she would never have made it. The next group—she doesn’t even consciously register where all the lasers are, where they’re moving, and more importantly where the gaps are in her mind’s eye. Buffy just trusts herself and moves instinctively, throwing herself headfirst through what turns out to be a gap and somehow doesn’t get touched once. It’s weird that something without a face can look like it’s got an expression, but if she’s not mistaken it looks like it’s frowning. Its eyes are wide under the goggles. She can make _that_ much out, even if the whites of the eyes aren’t actually white and there’s less of a contrast than normal.

Buffy hears just a hint of that ozone hum and turns just in time to see and react to the lasers coming back, facing them and doing a forward roll then flattening herself on the ground. She smells the burning, which is odd and unpleasant (though she doesn’t think she’s ever smelled burning brick before, that’s a new one, but it’s mixed with a more cloth-y style stench which she is infinitely infinite more familiar with) and fingers the hole in her shirt and the tender skin beneath. She’s not bleeding, but it sure feels like a few skin layers were removed. There’s also a precise notch in the bag strap where she’d failed to properly keep it all contained, but really, it could have been worse—and _oh no she just jinxed herself_. She can almost hear Dawn telling her “you’ve only got yourself to blame for this” in a fake sympathetic tone designed specifically to drive her up the wall. As annoying as it is to smell that awful smell that no one else can tell is even there or to hear something annoying that won’t go away and won’t let her sleep or concentrate, that’s one in a long line of points given to her Slayer Senses, on account of saving her life for the nth time.

The Slayer scrambles to her feet, ready for the next surprise, and the generally otherwise unblinking unmoving Stand that’s more statue-like and less life-like than some of the statues she’s dealt with lately reaches into its pouch and pulls out another piece of paper with the good arm that’s not barely hanging on. Seriously, the drops of oil-blood it’s bleeding are livelier and move more than the supposedly quasi-living creature they come from. It tosses the paper at her like a challenge, keeping an unblinking gaze directed at her. Which probably is being defiant, which she can respect even as she stomps that respect into the Stand’s face on the ground.


	36. Monsters We Created

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy continues the fight with Three Days Grace.

Buffy’s faster. She’s got the reach, with the sword. She actually unzips the bag and takes out the sword and even starts a fatal swing before the sudden thought pops into her head. _The Stand looks all monsterish and inhuman, but on the other hand is a human. Human with weird powers like me or Willow, sure. What happens if I kill the Stand? The damage translates to the one with the Stand. I’ve pretty much just lopped off a human’s arm, and I’m about to cut it in half._

Maybe it’s weak. Maybe that’s what Jotaro was trying to tell her, to get her to do. Sure, she can fight them. Probably even could kill them, if she wanted to. But, more than anything, she doesn’t want to become Faith, even if the other Slayer’s pretty much overcome her own issues and become an awesome woman and fighter now.

So she alters her swing just a little, catching the Stand in the shoulder instead. _Pass out from the blood loss or something. Please?_ Fortunately, she still has the Slayer endurance to go the distance, and while those with Stands are _also_ more durable than your average human, even they have limits below a Slayer’s. Right?

Unfortunately, she’s just figured out the trap that was thrown at her. It’s a few links of a paper chain. Like a snake, it slithers up her leg, more links appearing from nowhere pretty quickly, until it’s got a snug hold on her waist and hoists her into the air, top of the chain wrapping around the branch of the tree overhead. Buffy winces. It’s a kind of absurd sight—it _looks_ like just a small tug should tear the chain apart, and yet it’s holding her weight.

It’s just standing there, staring at her smugly. Which is kind of a dumb move, but then, maybe people who get Stands are just otherwise normal people, so why would it expect her to be able to do much more than just struggle?

“You’re really not used to dealing with Slayers, are you?” She’s got two moves here. She could cut down the tree branch. She still has the awesome sword of awesomeness—she didn’t accidentally drop it—and given how smoothly it went through…Stand arm (nope, not thinking about that, moving on)…a tree branch would be nothing. But that still leaves her with the same problem: hurting the Stand without killing it.

She chooses the second option, grabbing the chain above her with her hand not holding the sword, and yep, still feels like paper, _weird_ , throwing her whole body weight backwards from the Stand, just like she’s a kid on the swings again, only she’s way stronger now than she was then. Aside from swinging the sword backward for some extra momentum, because she definitely didn’t play with blades when she was ten. Its eyes widen again like it’s surprised for some reason, which by this point is predictable, this is getting old, you’d think it’d _learn_ , as she swings back with that much more momentum, that much more fury. Sure, she’s probably going to have bruises from the _paper chain_ but she’s probably given herself worse bruises on accident, and on the plus side, she heals quick.

She smacks into it, feet first, quickly wrapping her legs around it so it doesn’t go sailing out of reach. She punches it twice in the face and twists her entire body, sending it crashing face-first into the cobblestones. And if she wasn’t imagining things, she thought she’d heard—yep. The metallic-like croaking of something, like a chain being bent because Slayer-strength. She takes back her earlier thought. The sight of the broken link still retaining its form and holding her up is even _weirder_ , but if that’s possible, she might be able to cut through it with the sword.

It gurgles and pushes itself up weakly, which is really bad. Seriously, how much does she have to do to this thing to get it to _stay down_ without killing the person on the other side?

At least it looks like she’s disarmed it (argh, that’s _terrible_ Mind-Xander), because it’s not cutting anything with the shears, which still no matter how long she thinks about it looks really impractical. And it looks like if it’s getting new traps, it has to cut them. _Unfortunately_ that still leaves whatever it’s got in its bag. Evil Lawyer Lady’s enough of a forward thinker to store some traps for later. The question then becomes, for the battlefield strategist, why bother cutting any traps on the battlefield, then? It’s the middle of combat, you’ve got a crazed Slayer chasing at you, and you’re busy cutting out paper people? What sense does that make?

There must be some sort of advantage to doing it at the time. One of the most obvious is that you’ve got precise control over what’s being made. It’s not like a Stand without a mouth can call for a time-out to look for the precise trap for the situation, never mind the fact that she’d just ignore that anyway. So it’d make sense not to crowd the pouch too much, just a few all-purpose essentials. And with that precise control comes to the ability to adapt to your environment—if you’re stuck in close quarters with your opponent, the landmines might be a bad idea, since they might get you, too.

Her Slayer’s instincts are suggesting something else, too—they’re less efficient. Sure, the chain still _feels_ strong, but compared to the lasers and the landmines and the electricity trap it had felt comparatively sluggish, and if it was operating at full capacity wouldn’t it make sense for it to just, y’know, wrap around her throat and snap her neck? There’s some sort of decay period.

Unfortunately, the chain doesn’t part like butter, but she can feel it start to give way.

And then the Stand weakly tosses another paper at the tree, not her. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what this one does, given the shape of the paper. She starts the countdown in her head, because that’s something else she’d noticed, watching the Stand actually set the traps in front of her. There’s a priming period of three seconds between when the trap is set and when it’s actually active. At the same time, she puts that much more effort into cutting through the chain keeping her dangling.

A paper flame, and a tree she’s kind of chained to. She’ll give her enemy points for inventiveness, anyway, even as she groans out loud, “Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me.”


	37. Imagine if This All Came Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy continues the fight with Three Days Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone needs to tell Buffy the correct terminology for person with a Stand is User or Stand User because this is just starting to sound awkward  
> Also featured: the entire reason I could totally see Buffy being Captain America.  
> ~Dreamer~

The flames start to lick at the roots, but they’re moving sluggishly. There’s still a disconnect in her mind between ‘paper’ and ‘actually dangerous beyond papercut’, but she’s doing her best to keep it in mind, because not taking this seriously might just seriously wound her. It does, however, become spontaneously a lot easier, because when she finally gets through one half of the link, she feels just the hint of heat from near her feet. It doesn’t feel super warm, but it’s not worth underestimating it, either.

_And here I thought my life was weird with just vampires, magic, hell goddesses, possible aliens…now it’s deadly paper._

At least the Stand isn’t moving to throw any more traps, because she doesn’t know how she would deal with buzzsaws or more lasers or an electrified, on fire tree. In fact, it’s not moving at all, which might mean it’s passed out, _finally_ , but apparently that doesn’t get rid of any of the traps still present.

She tries the sensible thing—because sure, she’ll be trailing a tree branch behind her like Cavewoman Buffy until she can cut that off, too but that’s an improvement on her current situation. Except nothing happens. If she wasn’t watching closely she would’ve entirely missed the moment when her new awesome advertised as ‘can cut anything’ sword _doesn’t_ cut anything but just…phases through the tree limb like there’s nothing there.

It would be easy enough to blame it on her sword, to claim false advertising, but that’s far too easy. It’s probably another rule of the Stand. Removing the trap from the point where it’s set is impossible. She’d even go so far as to bet you can’t just tear the entire chunk of concrete up and throw it, or whatever. It can go off, see: Fugo. She was able to set a landmine off with the _other_ tree limb, so it’s not like a trap _has_ to catch a human or anything else living or breathing to actively go off. She’s also able to hack through the links on the chain, so obviously you can do damage to the trap itself. It’s too bad she doesn’t have a fire extinguisher on her. But at least she can buy herself some time.

She swings toward the tree, using it as a springboard to swing herself up and onto the tree limb. She’s still stuck in an on-fire tree, but she’s got a little more time to hack at the chain. It’s a little more difficult when she’s not dangling, making it straight and an easy target, and it takes her a few moments to find the link she’s already damaged. She’d half hoped the extra strain from swinging herself around would break it, but she’s not that lucky. It does look like it’s bent just a little more, so she straightens the chain as best she can, gets a good angle, and takes a swing.

For a second, she thinks she’s misjudged it, had been doing it wrong or something, because the sword goes smoothly through the other side, and then she realizes it’s not quite as easy as all that. The feel is like the one if she took the best pair of scissors they had and tried to cut through tissue paper. And then the rest of the links start to tear, like they’ve been soaked in water, and start falling down like confetti. The slowly growing smell of burning wood is suddenly gone.

She glances down at the Stand, and it’s not fading, like she feared. It’s not dead. But something else is happening. It looks and sounds like yellow lightning, playing over the Stand’s form. It’s not the electric trap repurposed. That had been a more natural looking blue. And there are rings of the same color, closing in, one after the other…That’s _definitely_ reminding her of something, only she can’t place it.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Severin yells, and she hears the sound of pounding feet before she sees him round the corner and sprint to her. “You were doing so well. You could’ve finished her.” The way he’s looking over her in concern contrasts sharply with the casual disregard for life she hears in his voice—because he is, she’s utterly certain, advocating for the death of their enemies, like it’s Faith all over again.

A variety of different responses run through her head, including excuses (“being burnt like a witch in Salem”) to outright lies (“Slayers _can’t_ kill humans”), but she discards them all, because in the end she has to know what he’s planning, and it’s not like she hasn’t said it right before the fight, anyway. “She was human, according to my Slayer senses.”

He sighs. Not dark and contemptuous, like she’d been expecting. Disappointed, maybe. She thinks about it, but can’t honestly decide if that’s better or worse. “I don’t know how that matters. She said she was from Wolfram & Hart. They don’t have human compassion. Their contracts supposedly involve signing away their souls. They’re as good as demons already.” Okay, that faux-reasonable tone he’s taking is _definitely_ worse than if he actually sounded insane. “So why should we not treat them as the monsters they already are?”

“So you’re willing to become a monster, just like them? If everyone thinks that way, we’ll end up with no humans left.” Someone has to take the higher ground, and if it’s her, so be it. “And before you try to argue that you have nothing left to lose, you’re wrong, because you’re starting to get a friend, and there’s so much future potential that hasn’t happened yet.” An entire untapped place never before seen, with so many different places it could go.

“What a good thing I’m an anomaly, then,” he responds, and there’s the darkness she’d been expecting.

“There’s a reason _Minority Report_ was a bad idea.” She’s not usually one to make the movie references, but why not, she’ll take a leaf out of Xander’s book for once. “People aren’t machines. They always have the capacity to do something to surprise you.” A reminder and a warning, all rolled into one.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” That smile is downright sinister, but at least she’s not the clueless blonde in the movie, and she can fight back. “Come on, let’s get back to Fugo.”

She can’t get the thought out of her head. What you do to the Stand happens to the person with the Stand, sure. She’d already established that. But she’d been nowhere near the Stand, and couldn’t have done whatever it was that was done anyway, so…did it work the other way around, too? _What had Montreux done?_


	38. Omake 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine, Okuyasu, and Josuke get in a fight of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stand idea here is beta'd. The actual chapter is not.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Uncle Okuyasu yells out, and she can’t help but laugh in response, feeling the adrenaline of the ride and the chase flow through her like the breeze.

“Oh, come on, _Oji-chan_ , you’re not _scared_ are you? I’m not going to let any of the scary monsters eat you,” she yells back with a grin. All right, so _maybe_ they’re horrifying Lovecraftian nightmares with too many tentacles and eyes where they shouldn’t be, and maybe they start to give you a headache if you look at them, but c’mon, that’s why you don’t _stare_. Everyone knows that’s rude, anyway.

Her uncle doesn’t respond, just kind of grasps the edge of the cart with white knuckles and hangs on for dear life.

To be honest, this hadn’t been her first inclination, but it seemed Sarde had once again exaggerated how easy a particular enemy Stand User was. Then again, if he hadn’t bothered to actually fight any of them, recruiting instead, maybe he _hadn’t_ actually had any idea about what it would be like to fight any particular User. It took them too long to find Blue Oyster Cult’s trick, and it doesn’t help that Okuyasu doesn’t have a sense of rhythm. She enjoys a good fight as much as the next person, and she’s all about those dancing games, but listening to her uncle scream because he’s burst into flames is _not_ her idea of a good time. Honestly, she might’ve panicked a little, which she’d been doing an awful lot lately, but…

Not lately. That date that feels like a week ago? That was _years ago._ But this isn’t the time for an existential crisis. Christina Crawford hadn’t been dealt with, and she’s every bit as mercenary as she’d been before her supposed demise.

Besides, as she glances back, Miss Crawford and her Stand are still in pursuit; the woman in question in another minecart that had been so helpfully provided for her, the six-eyed, glowing monstrosity on a fiery motorcycle that would have her wondering about Ghost Rider references if for the lack of a flaming skull just _riding_ over the tracks, implacable and dangerous. It even has what she’d thought was a trenchcoat at first and then realized was at least a pair, maybe more, of wings. Not like it’s bothered to actually use them for flying, though.

“Josie, how are we _not_ on fire?” That’s her dad, thinking about the important stuff.

“We’re still moving in a rhythm. I guess that’s enough for it to count?” Not like she knows how it works. She’d glanced at the Speedwagon Foundation records, but she’d been a little too busy making it safe for the ladies of her campus to walk at night. (Maybe she had extra stuff in common with Buffy? Except any impulses of ‘this lady’s super awesome we should be friends’ keep coming with the awkwardness of ‘you’re friends with the son I still can’t quite believe I have’, so it’s going less smoothly than she’d like.)

“And…why are we in a mine? Isn’t it usually…like a zoo?” There are a ton of side tunnels, filled with all sorts of lurking shadows that she purposefully doesn’t look at (it encourages them). That’s not a big leap, except it’s the kind where what lurks behind the bars can drive you mad. Then again, maybe it’s not all that different from heatstroke in a normal zoo.

“I can control the path. You’re gonna wanna get out Crazy D.” It’s not like she can use B3, with her Stand patiently waiting outside, ready to open another portal the second they want to leave. (That brings up the good question of how she’d traveled universes, and she doesn’t remember much, only something parting with her desperation and a headache.)

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, and she meets him with a reckless grin that had resulted in several sighs growing up.

“What do you think happens if her cart stops moving with the beat?” It’s an experiment.

He breathes in deeply, hair still sticking up from where it’d ended up after Okuyasu started screaming. “Great.” He raises his voice. “Feel free to surrender. The Speedwagon Foundation can probably pay you more than you’re getting.”

“From one source, maybe, but I can take on a number of wealthy clients this way,” she fires back.

Crazy Diamond bursts out of her father, smashing the tracks behind them with a “dora!”, and she always loved to see that, even as a baby apparently. She’d clap her hands and squeal. Now, she takes the much more dignified approach of making a face at their pursuer, even as she sees the woman’s face grow pale with fear. Might as well open that portal now.

She does the idiot the favor of keeping the portal open, and minutes later she stumbles through, face white and mumbling nonsense to herself. She watches the pompadour settle down a little as the horror at her fate and the burning rage at his friend being in agony clash. Okuyasu’s just staring at her, shaken. From the spontaneous combustion, the mine car ride, or the enemy Stand User’s condition, she can’t say. “What, I left her alive at least.”


	39. Peter Gabriel's Sobek and Lacuna Coil's Apophis Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koichi, Yukako, and Hol Horse investigate one branch of Wolfram & Hart.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter also entitled Bleeding Souls.

“If you flirt with me again, I will strangle you.” Koichi sighs. At least Yukako seems to have calmed down a little. He’d tried to talk to her regularly on their way there, but apparently when you travel universes cell phone service gets a _little_ less reliable. She’s getting better with regular visits to the psychiatrist and regular medication (which she’d even remembered to pack even getting worried about him; he’s proud), but unfamiliar situations, particularly ones in which her mind can go wild thinking up all sorts of terrible scenarios about what’s happening to him, tend to put her on edge.

“Sorry, sorry, I mean no offense. Just natural for me to compliment a pretty lady.” Hol Horse, in Koichi’s opinion, is not taking his wife as seriously as he should…but then, she’d promised not to kill him before and maybe he’s relying on the fact that she’s trying to reform and keep her promises.

“Hol Horse, please stop trying to antagonize my wife. Yukako, please ignore my partner; he’s not really worth using your Stand.” Fortunately he’s had lots of experience serving as the go-between for Josuke _and_ Rohan for years.

“You’re both lucky,” Hol adds, only that part sounds more genuine. Like he’s stopped with the teasing and is actually transitioning, just a little, into his cocky gunslinger persona.

“I’m aware,” Yukako replies shortly, before she adds, “…You are, too, for being able to work with such a great partner.”

“Got that right.” They pause at the entrance for Hol Horse to pull out his gun. The mercenary’s an interesting one. He talks about money, women, and being on the winning side, but hasn’t left the Speedwagon Foundation in years, and doesn’t see a problem with being Koichi’s partner. Even talks up his Stand like it’s Number One, even though Echoes really isn’t that strong, all things considered.

“What did the Foundation say again?” Yukako asks. She’d been busy making Koichi breakfast (he’d shared with Hol, mostly because they all needed the strength if they were going to get into a Stand battle and also because making him go elsewhere for a restaurant was a bad idea right now, when any of them might be attacked at any time).

“They’re kind of typical—a group that says they’re just lawyers, but have been making offers to Stand Users on the side. Also, apparently, demons.” It’s hard to believe that one, but apparently his previous employer who happened to be Giorno’s dad was also a vampire, so Koichi can believe it (and is definitely taking it better than Josuke had).

“No one’s supposed to be here; apparently the Speedwagon Foundation’s been watching these bases around the world, and this one supposedly had internal fighting or something and then everyone took off. We’re supposed to investigate because they’ve gotten their hands on an Arrow and are looking into another way to take power.” Koichi’s just a little bit concerned about his wife being here, too, but more than anyone he knows she can take care of himself.

“So it’s probably like what happened between Okuyasu’s brother and that criminal that used Red Hot Chili Pepper.” Yukako poses, ready for action with Love Deluxe.

“Probably fighting over strength, true.” Hol Horse shrugs. “Only idiots paint a target on their back like that.”

He glances at Koichi, who nods and pushes at the door.

What they find is what could almost look like what Koichi imagines a normal office would look like, complete with a reception desk and waiting area, except for the fact that it’s completely dark and the desk seems to have been chomped by a crocodile, or something else with huge jaws and huge teeth. Unless a dinosaur demon is involved, which he can’t really rule out, it feels like a Stand thing.

“Well, someone definitely fought here,” Yukako agrees, glancing at the floor, and Koichi’s stomach turns over slightly to see the blood. It’s not the first time; it’s certainly not the last, but it never ceases to bother him.

“They probably won’t have the Arrow here, but we might be able to find a few clues,” Hol Horse agrees, and at the slightest sound quickly aims his Emperor.

“Are they paying you enough for such a petty job, Hol Horse?” a charismatic voice asks, and instantly Yukako is already pulling them both, using her hair, into the room to the left, given that the voice sounded like it came from the right.

“Better worse pay than another group like DIO. I’d rather take Number Two and _not_ be seen as expendable,” Hol Horse mutters to himself, like he’s not even paying attention to the other two. 

Koichi takes the moment to call out Act 1 and throw the sound for ‘silence’ at the door. From experimentation, it can prevent sound from passing past that point, kind of like soundproofing, which is exactly what they need right now. Unfortunately, that _also_ means that they can’t hear what the creepy guy is doing in the other room.

“That sounded like an Enemy Stand User, and they knew you.” Yukako sounds vaguely accusing, but given that she’d bothered to save him she’s giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“That’s Lacuna Coil, the only other guy I knew who worked for DIO who had a partner. Peter Gabriel. They were some of the Egyptian Gods who apparently bailed like I did and never faced the Joestars. They’d taken on hit jobs before, with a reputation like Devo or Grey Fly, but it was DIO who gave them their Stands through the power of the Arrow. I’m not sure if it was the money or if they underestimated DIO, but either way, his Users were being taken out and it’s not like he could chase them to a different continent, so they were fine. The only other thing I know is the names of their Stands-Sobek and Apophis. We weren’t exactly in the habit of sharing how our Stands worked and making ourselves vulnerable, which is why most of us worked alone.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have that ego,” Koichi comments, peeking around the corner.


	40. Peter Gabriel's Sobek and Lacuna Coil's Apophis Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koichi, Yukako, and Hol Horse fight the Stand User mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oddly, it's beta'd this early despite having finished it nearly 9 hours ago. thanks beta-senpai
> 
> Chapter also entitled Games Without Frontiers.

Koichi barely pulls his head out of the way in time as a giant pair of jaws snap past his head. He can feel the wind as it misses. That was a close one. He’s found the Stand that ate the desk. He’s glad his first instinct, generally, on noticing movement is to run or hide, rather than investigating further, because it’s not like Josuke can heal him if he doesn’t have a head. He’d tried a different approach exactly once, when looking for the source of the button, and that hadn’t worked out too well. He’ll fight, of course, but he’s more cautious than the others. “I guess that’s one of their Stands,” he states shakily. It’d be nice if he could be cool when fighting like Josuke or Jotaro, but he’ll settle for staying alive.

“I’ll break their ribs for that,” Yukako mutters, reaching out to squeeze his hand protectively. It’s appreciated, though he’s only really fought alongside her once, and it’s a new experience. He’s not sure if he likes it or not, but it’s early yet, and he can come to a conclusion later, after the end. “If they’re protecting this place, doesn’t that mean that there’s something here worth protecting?”

“They could just be out for the bounty. If it’s a company offering it, they’re probably paying a fortune, enough to catch the eye of the most serious mercenary,” Hol Horse disagrees. “I could aim for the mouth if I could just see them.”

“That Stand’s fast and strong, though it looks like it can only chomp so fast. I’d guess it’s a close-range power type.” There might be more to it. He thought he’d seen something inside the mouth, but he’d only gotten the briefest of glimpses.

“Well? You wanted to take a shot. Fire away.” They turn, and there’s a man relaxing on the stairs. Hol’s hand isn’t trembling on the gun, but then, it never is. Everything about the Stand User says sophisticated and nonchalant. This must be Peter Gabriel. No wonder his Stand could go after them like that—he was close by, and it didn’t matter if his Stand could see them or not if he had eyes on them the whole time. He could blend in better than his partner, even with the suit jacket and bow tie (seriously, who wears that to kill somebody?). It also, unfortunately, reminds him of Kira, because that was another smug guy in a suit who could use charisma on his victims. “What’s the matter, Hol Horse? Lost your nerve?” He turns to Yukako, smirk still firmly in place. “What about you? You wanted to break my ribs.”

With a scream, his wife’s hair extends, hitting the man’s torso and wrapping around it like a whip. With just a glance, he’s worked out their weaknesses. He can definitely see this guy as a mercenary. Fortunately, Koichi’s paying attention, and he knows exactly what’s going on here. Someone who’d watched their entrance to their room probably could’ve come to the conclusion that Love Deluxe was their best defensive Stand, and while it’s a conclusion that makes a lot of sense, it’s also not the full story.

“What are you doing?” Yukako screams, and if in response, Hol Horse finally fires his gun. But not at the man on the stairs.

He’s serving as a distraction, confident that his Stand can take them out before the bullet could hit him. He’s gambling with his own life, and enjoying it. Enemy Stand Users are seriously weird.

They’ve worked together enough that Koichi knows exactly what he’s supposed to do. If he hadn’t seen how fast the Stand was, he’d think this wasn’t necessary, but he’s not about to underestimate a Stand again. He summons Act 3, which fortunately is the fastest of Echoes’ Acts. “Echoes, Freeze!”

His Stand moves quickly enough that it looks like it’s teleporting, appearing in front of the doorway quicker than the enemy Stand can get through. “Three Freeze.” There’s no sound of the Stand hitting the floor hard enough to break it, but he can tell exactly what the smirk on Hol Horse’s face means—he’s got just enough of an angle to see just enough of the doorway.

“Well, that’s an absolutely fascinating decision, and might have saved you from the jaws of death for the moment, but Sobek’s a little more resilient than all that. You really should’ve shot me in the head.” He’s not even sweating, though his words are strained as Love Deluxe squeezes like a vice. He’s…dancing?

Hol Horse pulls Yukako back, and it’s suddenly clear what his plan had been. Pull Yukako in, then…something. 

“Sorry about that,” Hol actually apologizes, which is a little new. As far as he knows, gentleman or not, his partner’s never bothered to do that before.

“Fortunately not a mistake I’m liable to make.” He pulls a dagger out and throws it, all in one smooth motion. Koichi’s spent a lot of time with a guy with a gun, and he’s gotten used to how weapons and people who use weapons work. This man knows what he’s doing. He’d been planning to pull her in close, then stab her. Barring that, he’s good at throwing weapons instead, apparently.

He’d been aiming at Yukako. Koichi barely managed to get in the way first. “Keep in the present,” he manages, because the worst thing that can happen is that she loses her temper again. He’d never really been hurt in a fight, not this bad, other than the time with Kira, and one other time early in his partnership with Hol Horse, but that had been a Stand and the effect had gone away after they’d defeated the User. If Hol was ever about to shoot him, he could just de-summon Emperor. He’d never really thought about it. It turns out being stabbed kind of _hurts_ , even if it is just his shoulder.

Act 3 uses an effect to throw them backward again, and Yukako manages to redirect them to the next doorway, which _hopefully_ won’t be hiding another Stand User. They don’t need any more surprises.


	41. Peter Gabriel's Sobek and Lacuna Coil's Apophis Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koichi, Yukako, and Hol Horse fight the Stand User mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized that by this point Yukako and Koichi would probably be married, whoops (have fixed in earlier parts)  
> Chapter also entitled The Storm Arrives.

They manage to make it into a darkened closet. Koichi’s sobbing into his shirt-sleeve so he doesn’t give them away before he manages to place the silence sound at the doorway. They flatten themselves against the sides, Hol Horse with his gun at the ready, Koichi crouching behind a few boxes of what looks like papers, clutching his shoulder, Yukako looming over him, scary look on her face. He gulps. It’s been a while since he’s been afraid of her, but her expression right now feels like the moment he’d woken up in that unfamiliar house.

She notices and looks a little hurt, trying to smile. It sort of works, even as she crouches down to look at his wound. Her face looks a little weird, but honestly she’s trying, for him, which means a lot. Even as Okuyasu whined for probably _weeks_ about how both Koichi and Josuke had managed to get girls before he had, his friends had been happy for him. Okuyasu had finally _sort of_ calmed down when the both of them had named him as Best Man, which he hadn’t stopped boasting about. At least he’d been happy about something. “Honestly, it would help if my therapist could tell me how much homicidal rage when someone you love is hurt is normal,” she mutters, and he giggles even if he’s trying not to (even though, with the ‘silence’ word near the door, they won’t hear them for a bit at least. It’s like the world’s most deadly version of hide-and-seek, and hey, there’s an idea. 

He sends Echoes Act 1 out, which yeah, is terrifying and Yukako looks a little worried even as Hol Horse pays even more attention. Yukako’s hair, cut off, can act as a bandage. He only manages to place a few ‘whispers’ around before he hears someone walking in the direction of his Stand and quickly changes to Act 3, the Stand cursing quietly and robotically and crawling into the vents to make its way back _relatively_ quietly. “Hopefully, they’ll chase the whispers around for a bit to give us some breathing room,” he explains.

“Long enough for me to play nurse, though I’d imagined something a little more vivid, and a little more private,” Yukako states playfully, probably just to watch Koichi’s cheeks turn bright red. Hol chuckles, amused by his embarrassment, though he hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway. They all freeze for a minute, not even daring to breathe, which almost seems dumb for a second before Koichi remembers that, oh yeah, the mere movement of a breath in could be enough to alert whoever it is out there. It’s the briefest of glimpses, but it’s not a blond in a suit. He gets the briefest glimpse of leather and a scar and makeup, and it’s safe to assume this is Lacuna Coil, not Peter Gabriel. They haven’t seen his Stand yet, but he’s carrying a sword that looks like someone tried to mash one of the Egyptian symbols together with a sword and used some mummy wrapping for the hilt. They all breathe in a sigh of relief when he’s gone.

“Most of their targets die by what seems like an unidentified poison,” the self-professed mercenary whispers (it’s not necessary, but then, trying to keep a low profile in general is probably a good idea right now). “I’ve heard Gabriel’s a good shot, though not as good as me, though he hasn’t drawn his gun yet. Probably knows I’d beat him to the draw.” And there’s that ego. Koichi certainly hopes Hol is that much better. “You still feel fine, right?”

“As fine as I can be when I was stabbed.” Koichi tries to sound brave, but knows it’s coming off a little flat. Every time, in situations like this, he wonders how he ended up working for the Speedwagon Foundation, rather than Josuke or Okuyasu or practically anyone else who would be a better fit. He feels a little bit like passing out, but he’s not about to let his wife or his partner deal with the situation themselves when it’s life or death. He can wait to black out.

“I’m sorry about the pain, Ko-chan.” He braces himself as she pulls the dagger out, blinking away the tears at the accompanying ache, and then again in confusion as her hair wraps tightly around his arm.

“Yukako?” He’s a little more breathless than he intends but this _hurts_ , though he’s come to the point where her hair’s comforting in a weird way. Like he knows he’s safe, even though that makes absolutely no sense.

“It’s not exactly a bandage, but it’ll work well enough for now. Your blood is better off staying inside your body.” She reaches up, wincing and—oh no, she isn’t…

But no, she’s used the dagger to cut her hair before he can say anything.

She smirks at his look of dismay. “My Stand _is_ my hair. It’ll grow back quick enough, and I’d go bald if it’d save you.” She would, too, which is simultaneously touching and kinda scary. Then again, that could summarize his wife pretty easily. As it is, she’s nowhere near bald, though he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her even with medium-length hair. It’s weird. “As for you, Hol Horse, why didn’t you shoot?”

That’s a good question. It wasn’t one of the things his partner tended to brag about, but apparently he hadn’t even hesitated when it was DIO in front of him, daring him to shoot, and while Hol can be a bit of a coward (maybe their battle approach was the reason they were partnered in the first place? that’d never occurred to him before), in a situation like that he wouldn’t hesitate or let his gun hand tremble, so why?

He’d still been steady, but he hadn’t shot.

“Instinct, the same instinct that got me out of a couple close calls with Mr. Kujo’s friends. He’d been trying to get me to shoot him, and confidence like that meant he wasn’t worried about a bullet through his skull. I think he, at least, considers my Emperor the only dangerous Stand, and was waiting until I used it to make his move. I might be faster on the draw, but Sobek’s pretty fast. If he’d even gotten one of you, I’d be at a disadvantage.” He’s got a touch of affection in his voice, but that makes sense that he’d be thinking logically, rather than emotionally, about this. It’s one of the things that allows them to work well together, covering each other’s weaknesses. “It was a pretty hairy situation, and maybe he’d just been stalling so his partner could catch up, but I took the chance and waited for him to make a move first. If his partner had been the one through the door, I would’ve filled him with lead.”

Koichi nods, before something catches his eyes. The scrawl of the English word ‘arrow’, small and easy to miss, on the box behind Yukako. The one beneath it’s labeled ‘mask’. “I think we might’ve accidentally found what we were looking for,” he points at it, and Yukako turns to look.

Before she can take the lid off, though, they’re half-deafened by the sound of a gunshot directly next to them, and there’s a looming figure in the doorway. “Pity you won’t get to take advantage of the discovery.” He’d _almost_ think this is the other Stand User except for the fact that those are still the same color suit pants. That, and he _thinks_ it sounds like Peter Gabriel’s voice. He’s even raised his voice so they can hear him over the ringing in their ears. It’d almost be polite if not for the situation. He raises his arms theatrically, posing. Suit Stands had been recorded, but Koichi’s pretty sure he’s never heard of one that could be _both_ , though it’s changed in appearance, a little. It’s more humanoid, now, and Peter’s chest is bare, now, muscled and dangerous-looking, though not more so than the crocodile head that’s replaced Peter’s own, complete with some Egyptian headdress. “Surprise.”


	42. Peter Gabriel's Sobek and Lacuna Coil's Apophis Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koichi, Yukako, and Hol Horse continue to fight the Stand User mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter also entitled To Live is to Hide.  
> …okay I fully admit the ‘eight rounds in the chamber’ thing is based off EoH. He does one move, eight hits = eight shots. Because the internet won’t tell me and I don’t have the relevant chapters of the manga at hand, not that I remember him shooting anywhere near that many in the manga anyway.  
> I could totally see yukako as an umbran witch

Hol Horse doesn’t hesitate this time. His hand is already moving into a firing position, Emperor appearing in his hand as his hand moves and he fires all eight bullets. Koichi’s slightly confused for a moment before he realizes Hol doesn’t think he can get through the Stand all that easy and isn’t expecting to get through the Stand on the first try. Then again, it’s a pretty good guess that the entire reason this guy isn’t scared of a bullet through the skull is the whole ‘transforms to a suit Stand’ thing. Though…how does that work? Would he have had to recall Sobek first? Would Sobek be fast enough? Or was he just playing games, since he was pretty obviously a sociopath? Maybe he was relying on his partner to save him? Not that it particularly matters at the moment, since there’s no convincing evidence in any direction.

Two of the bullets curve toward the apparently exposed chest but bounce off. They don’t even leave behind blood or any sort of mark.

Yukako’s hair explodes. It doesn’t seem like it’s especially affected by her cutting it, after all, which is a good thing given that they’re still in the middle of a life-or-death situation. Some of it is used to probe the room beyond, which is a surprisingly sound fighting strategy for a person who, as far as he knows, had only used her Stand seriously in battle against him, and even then had more reckless anger than an actual plan. Like all Stand Users, she had an instinct as to how to use her Stand, but she hadn’t known the word Stand or known about other Stands and how they worked (then again, he was pretty new to all this himself at the time). It’d be pretty helpful to know where Lacuna Coil is, or for that matter, his Stand—Apophis, maybe? And it’s not like damaging her hair will hurt anything but her pride. In fighting game terms, that might even be enough to give her a ‘power up’. Not that he’d done much besides watch as Josuke, Josie, and one of Josie’s other ‘uncles’, Kakyoin, growled at each other and got weirdly intense, but he’d picked up a few terms here and there (and got a little uncomfortable when Josie would start swearing like a sailor). Speaking of the Stand names, they sound a little different than most of the ones he’d heard, but he knows exactly why. He’s seen the Speedwagon Foundation files, though the descriptions are a little dry and clinical given that he knows two of the people involved in the whole thing and it had to have been as hard as dealing with Kira or any of the other Stand Users going around killing or hurting people in Morioh. He’d only gotten rambly answers out of Joseph, and not much of anything at all out of Jotaro, which was really business as usual, he supposed.

She’s taking a proactive approach to stop herself from being pulled in this time, anchoring herself with her hair (as well-anchored as a few locks can be anyway). The rest has wrapped around the dagger still covered with his drying blood, whipping it at Peter Gabriel.

Shockingly, she’s also following Hol’s lead. A swing at the chest _also_ leaves no mark, and she growls, using the increase in momentum to swing back harder.

The third bullet smashes into the teeth, and the dagger follows, swiping in a way that almost makes Koichi’s teeth ache. That _should_ be knocking out all the scary pointy Stand teeth, and yet it doesn’t.

But—hmm.

On one hand, that means its durability is probably pretty high, but on the other hand, he’s just sitting there, with his creepy alligator-grin. But he hasn’t opened his mouth. Maybe, just maybe, he’s vulnerable in that space between Stand and Man. Letting Hol use up all his bullets before making his own move.

The fourth and fifth bullets smash into the eye and the back of the head, but there’s no luck there. If he’s not mistaken, there’s a slight wince when Yukako outright stabs at the same eye with as much force as she can muster, but then, she’s just getting more frustrated and more violent, and maybe it’s an overall damage thing? So if they keep hitting the same spot, maybe it’ll actually turn out useful after all.

But then, he’s not about to just sit here and do nothing, either. So he sends out Act 2, as it darts in and throws its tail at the ground in front of where Peter’s standing nonchalantly waiting. And Yukako doesn’t even have to ask any questions. In step with them, like she’s been fighting as part of the team all along, she wraps her hair around Peter’s torso and tugs. The man’s expression changes, losing that smug toothy crocodile smile in favor of wide eyes as he stumbles forward. His foot touches the sound effect, and even Koichi, Yukako, and Hol Horse have to avert their gaze for a moment at the bright, _close_ flash of lightning and roll of thunder. It’s a little unbearable even from within the closet, but for Peter, who’s actually touching it, the effect is worse. The man is essentially blind and deaf for a bit, and if he keeps standing there rather than moving away it’s just going to happen again. He shakes his head, as if trying to will the effect away, which makes Koichi a little bit smug. 

It’s not quite what he hoped, but one more bullet slams into the back of the headdress without effect. There’s a single moment of reaction, and it’s not like it’s an in your face thing, but there’s another stagger or something. Just a second, and given that this particular sound effects take a bit before wearing off, standing somewhere else won’t have an obvious effect for now. Yukako nudges their enemy back into place.

The last two bullets simultaneously hit a foot and hand. Love Deluxe stabs at the other foot, and Peter sways. Echoes tries to dart away, but it’s now that all of the bullets have fallen that Sobek’s mouth snaps, catching one of Act 2’s legs, and Koichi screams. That’s definitely a smirk on the blond’s face even as he’s forced to his knees. And as Sobek’s mouth is open, a swarm of black beetles comes out and swarm over Koichi. Some of them go for his arm but can’t get through Yukako's hair, and it seems like they can’t get through his skin, either, but the ones that go for his leg encounter no such resistance. He screams as they inject something fiery like poison, and hopes that Yukako will be okay.


	43. Peter Gabriel's Sobek and Lacuna Coil's Apophis Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yukako and Hol Horse fight the Stand User mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter also entitled Things Have Been.  
> Continue to stay at home when you can and distance and wear a mask when you can't. You might save a life, or at least prevent a hospitalization.  
> Also, thanks to all the healthcare workers out there!

It might not seem like it, but Hol Horse does respect Yukako. She’s not _quite_ his type, but she’s Koichi’s, and that’s good enough for him. Besides, she’s still a lady to him, even if he’s fairly certain she’ll never act like one in her life.

She grits her teeth, lowering Koichi to his side on the floor as he jerks around, seemingly having a seizure from the pain. Hol had heard of that, vaguely, but never bothered to pay attention. If they deal with the Stand User, hopefully he’ll be back to normal. Koichi’s generally a good guy, better than some of his previous partners in almost every way (among other things, he doesn’t _mind_ hanging out with the guy outside of the work), and he’s also a good partner. Getting a new friend or a new partner would be both sad and a hassle at this point.

“You’ll pay,” she hisses, radiating pure waves of rage. Hol thinks about some of the women Stand Users DIO had also recruited and concludes that she would have fit right in. Peter Gabriel doesn’t look concerned at all, snapping the crocodile jaws at her, and she manages to pull herself out of the way with her own hair.

“Do you take cash or credit?” he asks, smug—but he’s too smug and isn’t looking to cover his own back. For one thing, despite the synergy of their Stands, the duo don’t have good teamwork, and for another, that lack of fear is characteristic of some idiot believing themselves to be Number One. Because he’s glimpsed something, a possible weakness.

“Can you keep his jaws open?” he asks quietly, though given the close quarters their enemy’s just as likely to hear him as his ally is. Yukako grins, bloodthirsty, and moves quickly, hair wrapping around both jaws and wrenching them apart. Acting quickly is the way to keep their advantage. 

Hol follows it up, each of the bullets at Gabriel’s feet flying up and flying through Sobek’s open, straining jaws, following a path through the man’s mouth to his brain. Sobek melts away, and the man collapses at Yukako’s feet as her hair comes free.

There’s the sound of another shot, and Hol feels a streak of pain across his arm. Two thoughts run through his head: the first, that Lacuna Coil is a horrible shot, and the second, that he hadn’t really tried to learn because it doesn’t matter. Not with Apophis. He might even enjoy watching his enemies writhe in pain and die, dragging it out for torture’s sake.

“I’m impressed. I suppose your Stand is your gun, there, and you can control even the bullets that seemingly miss.” He’d thought that was a good move, himself. “Unfortunately for you, any little break in your skin is enough for my Apophis to get in. You’ll earn me a lot of money.” He’d already worked that out, feels the bite as little black bugs crawl over his skin. It _hurts_ , and he feels himself tipping back, legs collapsing beneath him. But he finds himself grinning, just a little.

“You’ve forgotten someone,” he manages, blocking one more shot with a bullet of his own, hand sure for the second before it spasms and Emperor disappears as the agony engulfs him.

He wakes up in pain, but he’s awake and can move, even if it hurts to do so. He glances over to find Coil on the ground, as he’d expected. “Did you kill him?” he coughs, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position, using the wall as leverage. Yukako has Koichi in her lap, still and upset.

She shrugs, to his surprise. “I didn’t hear a crack, but that’s only the second time I’ve actually tried to kill someone. I might’ve missed it. I just squeezed until his Stand disappeared.”

Koichi’s first sign of life is a desperate cough. While Hol sympathizes, they aren’t about to get the remnants of the poison or venom or whatever it had been out of their system like that. When he can finally breathe with something resembling a normal rhythm, he manages, “I remember Jotaro-san saying something about not being able to use your Stand if you’re suffocating.”

“That has even more of an impact than simply passing out, yeah, though of course it depends on the Stand. An automatic Stand, for example…” Koichi nods and winces, the movement a little too much. Hol gets it, he really does. “I hope my partner and his wife aren’t permanently harmed.” He tries to stand, but admits, reluctantly, that it’s not time yet.

That inspires laughter and then coughing from Koichi, and he’s at least grinning inside. Even Yukako looks like she might be fighting off the hint of a smile. “Even now, you’re trying to act the gentleman?”

“Act?” Hol asks. It’s mostly mock outrage, but there’s a little bit of actual pride in there, too. He does enjoy being charming to the ladies, and even if he might use them a little, he always wants to at least show them a good time.

She ignores him, which he’s beginning to learn is a response in of itself from her, and turns back to Koichi. “Well, if it was just you, Ko-chan, I wouldn’t mind being your very own personal nurse, but as it is I suppose we should get to the Speedwagon Foundation instead. I don’t know a lot about it, but they’re used to dealing with Stand injuries, correct?”

“We should get the documents to them as soon as possible, and I’m worried that they might realize the Stand Users they sent failed and might send more if we don’t get out quickly enough,” Koichi admits, still a little breathless but there’s still a strength to his voice that wasn’t there before. “You’ll have to carry us, dear.”

“That’s easy.” Her hair wraps around Hol, lifting him easily, and oddly enough, it feels…comfortable? He feels safe and secure, enough to drift off again, knowing his current partners have the situation well within control.

 **「Peter Gabriel, User of Sobek retire** **」**

 **「Lacuna Coil, User of Apophis retire** **」**


	44. Rite to Render Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severin, Fugo, and Buffy get the news about the Mask.

Fugo seems to be upset with being knocked out of the fight early. He seems like the type of person to take everything personally, even when it’s not particularly her fault. (Not like she has any experience on that front, at all.) 

Severin’s ignoring him like he doesn’t even exist anymore. Just keeps addressing her about strategy, with a slight condescending air. He probably doesn’t think she notices, but she does, and from Fugo’s expression, so does he. Severin’s getting worse, and she doesn’t even know him enough to know if he’d lost it because of the loss of his girlfriend, or if this isn’t natural. She’d hoped she could avoid this whole thing, but then, she can’t always avoid her visions, particularly when other people are involved. They tend to be a little unpredictable. 

Fugo opens his mouth to say something, only his phone rings instead. He answers, and though she can’t understand the Italian, she knows instantly who’s on the other end of the line solely by the deferential air Fugo immediately gets when he answers. Severin listens intensely, and, well…she hadn’t wanted to doubt him about that, too, but he might have a better understanding of Italian than he claims. The main question is why he would lie about that. Some of the other stuff, sure, that makes sense, but Italian?

“Yes, she’s here.” The sudden English catches her attention, cutting through her contemplation. Fugo pulls the phone away from his ear, looking meaningfully to her. “You want to talk to him?”

“No, that’s okay.” At least he hadn’t given her away, that she’d contacted him separately. Severin really seemed to prefer the idea that she was rebelling, striking out on her own because of how unfair she’d been treated. To be fair, that probably wasn’t the best solution, but she needed something drastic to shock Giles and, honestly, herself, out of their complacency, and she couldn’t think of anything else that would have worked. She’s not entirely sure why—well, no, she has some ideas. It’s easier to control her, manipulate her, or kill her if need be if she’s alone.

Fugo stares disbelievingly but probably relays that in Italian, judging by the anger and disbelief in his tone. Giorno, though, seems like the type to understand, even if Fugo doesn’t, and the conversation ends fairly soon after.

“What the hell was that about?” Fugo went from zero to a hundred in seconds again, right after hanging up.

“I’m trying to do things on my own.” She’s not used to that. Before she became a Slayer, she’d been the popular kid, and so doing things on her own was unthinkable. Then she’d became the Slayer and had Slayers on her side, and after that point she’d been in charge. She associates alone with weakness, not strength—and yet, she’s anything but weak. She can accomplish cool things on her own, but it’s even better when she’s doing it with friends.

Fugo raises an eyebrow, glancing between himself and Severin, and, well…that’s not wrong, but that hadn’t been planned, at all.

He sighs and crosses his arms when she doesn’t answer. “I’ll tell you something I wish someone had told me. It’s rare you get a good group, and rare that anyone gets respect from Giorno. Don’t abandon that so easily. Together, you can achieve the impossible.”

“I didn’t abandon them. I’m just taking a break. We haven’t really had that chance to think about how we treated each other.” She could explain more about how it’s not healthy, about how this is good for them as a team, that they’ll maybe work through their problems and talk about things and come out of this stronger, but she’s not sure that she wants to say that in front of Severin, and Fugo doesn’t look like he understands anyway.

“What did this ‘Giorno’ say about the mask?” Severin interrupts, and it seems like Fugo’s noticed, too. Then again, Severin’s stopped being as subtle, which is not a good sign. Either he’s stopped realizing he’s being more obvious, or he’s stopped caring.

Fugo snaps, barely missing Severin with a dagger. He’s buried it in the wall behind Severin’s head, and is breathing hard. Montreux doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. Fugo looks away, trying to get his breathing back under control. He eventually tugs the dagger out of the wall and glances back toward the other man, anger still burning in his eyes but at a much lower level. “You said it was easy not to repeat your rude behavior, but you’re a liar.”

For one long moment, Buffy wonders if her companion is going to even respond. He doesn’t seem like he’d even heard. Surreptitiously, Buffy readies herself to fight, because if it’s gone this far, he might be ready to make his move. But then Severin shakes his head, as if he’s coming out from a pool of water back to the world of dry reality.

“Sometimes I get too focused on revenge, but that’s the past. I don’t live there, as much as I would love to be there again.” He glances back up with an apologetic smile. “It’s too easy to keep seeing it everywhere, in every situation, haunting every step I take. The truth, however painful, is that no one could have prevented her death, not even with knowledge. That no one is that perfect being I would wish into being. That no one is infallible, least of all me, and small mistakes now aren’t the end of the world.”

That’s easy for him to say. If the Ascension is successful, it may well be the end of the world. No pressure, right? But he has a good enough point. There’s no use in throwing up their hands, insisting that they’ve already failed and there’s reason to try again, and then partying like there’s no tomorrow. “You need to stop thinking about the past and start thinking about the future. Because honestly? That’s where action, the doing of things that might be useful, comes in.”

Montreux nods gratefully, and even Fugo seems a little pumped by her speech, if a little confused about her sentence construction, which is great. Good to know she’s still got the Leader Pep Talk down. She’ll keep an eye out, still, be ready for the smiting style of judgment should it be needed.

Fugo still opts to address her directly, rather than speaking to them both. “Don Giovanna just received news he thought should be relayed. Apparently, the vampires already handed off the mask before we’d even arrived. Representatives of Wolfram & Hart already picked it up, and transported it to an office in England. More Stand Users from one of our newest allies missed that one. Enemy Stand Users, like the one we encountered, were sent to clean up the scene.” He bows, getting her to crack a smile. “Unfortunately, I’m needed elsewhere. It seems we’ve started a war.” He trails off into more Italian that is likely not complimentary.

“You can’t stay and help us retrieve the Mask?” Severin asks, and…well, at least he’s asking and sounds vaguely humble and isn’t ordering, or she’s not sure Fugo would manage to miss next time.

“Unfortunately not, given that the exact location hasn’t been discovered yet. They kept detailed files, but deciphering them will take time. No doubt the Don will contact you when that is done.” He glances back at Buffy. “Are you sure neither of you want to come with me?” It’s as close as he’s going to get to ‘do you know what you’re doing?’

She’s tempted to glance at Severin, but she already knows her answer. “I think we have to have another discussion about strategy before we can make that kind of decision.” ‘Trust me, even if you don’t trust him.’

“We’ve just been going in circles. I’d rather the enemy be reacting to _us_ ,” Severin agrees, and after another searching look Fugo nods and leaves.


	45. Where the Shadows Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severin and Buffy try to figure out their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, strap yourselves in and get ready for the ride 'cause there's no stops 'till the end of this volume.

Unfortunately, the most they can do is hit a few more Wolfram & Hart sponsored locations, to no success. It appears that they’ve been abandoning a lot of their Italy locations, though at this point Buffy’s fairly certain Giorno has declared war. She’s sure that he’d been hiding his strength, partly because they were undercover and partly because he didn’t seem the type to give away everything even to allies. It’d been a conscious effort just to be as transparent as he’d been, which, to be fair, she had appreciated. Also to be fair, maybe it wouldn’t have been as easy to spot for most people, but she’s had years of people lying to her. For the most part, it was to protect her, but it’s still obvious by this point. He’d only held back because he wasn’t sure he had backup and didn’t want to risk his people, and yeah, he’d cared. Didn’t let it hold him back, but he cared. He also had high standards, so she’s fairly certain fighting any of the others wouldn’t be easy, either. Perhaps it was also the scale, the fact that Wolfram & Hart was international, but now that he’d had assurances from the Speedwagon Foundation and the New Slayers’ and Watchers’ Council, he’d no doubt move quickly. The Don wasn’t much of one to hesitate.

They do encounter some resistance here and there, but it’s not very difficult. Only one of the year’s hottest new vampires, or whatever undead abomination they are, this one like a twisted bear. For the first time Buffy admits that okay, yeah, she gets the appeal of wrestling now; it’s a great stress relief. The rest are humans that flee at great speed, and Severin just glances in her direction and growls and lets them go, or lowly, freshly sired vamps that barely slow down their stride. They aren’t lucky enough like whatever Speedwagon Foundation Stand Users to find incriminating documents or anything like that, though there is a single communication possibly indicating unrest within the ranks (which, duh, they’d known there was a possible civil war or something going on already). She does note that a few boxes of financial records remain, which Giorno will find of interest. He texts back his thanks in polite perfectly written and punctuated English. She tells him he forgot a grinning cat emoji, because he totally seems the type (he is extremely fascinated by animals), and gets another carefully written text thanking her for pointing out the omission, complete with a lizard emoji. 

The problem is that while she’s getting stress relief, Severin gets more and more restless, like a caged tiger. He gets more quiet and more broody with every failed branch visit. He’s nearly silent when they finally eat, calling it a day, though he does actually meet her attempts at conversation with half-hearted responses. During the fights, he’d seemed frustrated, angry, and she’s sure if she hadn’t been there, he would have killed. Just like Faith. And just like Faith, he seems lost, desperate for some kind of control now.

At first, she tries a couple softballs (which, why are they called that anyway? softballs _hurt_ ), about Italy and the food and the like, and he’s short in his responses, but that burning fury is gone. The only thing left in its wake is what seems like a bone-deep exhaustion.

Eventually, she moves on to their plans for the future. “Well, if all else fails, we could maybe go for their leadership. I’m not sure how good the information is, given the source…” She watches carefully, and the slight glee at her insult to the NSWC, at her continued affirmation at her supposed solo act, is muffled, just like everything else.

She’d thought he’d been the one casting the Spell of Distrust, to be honest. When she hadn’t been around him for a little, texting others behind her back, she’d felt the paranoia lift, just a little, and Slayer senses said he was human, sure, but there was _something_ familiar about his magic, and maybe, just maybe…but if that’s the case, what’s even happening here? He should be going on with that arrogant rage, but no. Never mind the fact that suspicion and doubt is the whole point of the spell, and so maybe he’s just messing with her again. “….the one who’s probably heading this whole project is a former Watcher-turned-W&H-Employee, Wesley Wyndam-Price. He’s apparently been put in charge of Special Projects, who are the same people who wanted the Mask and the Arrow and that book on Ascension.” Viewed purely objectively, his actions don’t make sense. Maybe he couldn’t control who was affected, or how their suspicions were directed, but if that’s the case, he’d be acting extra hard to act as a trustworthy ally, not an inconsistent mess, right?

He stops slumping, leaning forward just a little. He still looks exhausted, but there’s something that looks like hope in his eyes, and it’s…pure, for lack of a better word. That darkness that had started creeping in when they—

Hang on. When they’d met Fugo.

Now, it’s not that Fugo’s Stand does that. Probably. Giorno would have to have been lying, and Fugo, and that’d mean she really _couldn’t_ have trusted them. Not entirely impossible, given that he _was_ boy band mafia. Both of them were.

But if Severin was a victim, instead. If he’d been affected by the spell, and it’d been feeding his darkest instincts…

“The problem is that he carefully guards the secret of his location, isn’t it?” He sighs, mindlessly swirling his fork in his pasta, leaning his head into his hand and looking every single day younger than she is. “And I suppose most of the Wolfram & Hart employees are trained to resist torture—not,” he adds, with a small, shy smile, “…that we’d have to go for the humans, not in an organization staffed by so many wimpy vampires.”

“No wonder supervillains keep complaining they can’t get any good help these days,” she jokes, and he actually chuckles, still obviously about to fall asleep in his pasta.

“Well, we could try asking around tomorrow,” she suggests, watching his reaction.

“I can still—” he starts to protest, and yawns midway through his sentence, flushing heavily.

“We sleep _first_. Your girlfriend would probably become a ghost just to haunt me if I let you die from pushing yourself too hard.” She can keep an eye on him. It’d be nice to be able to save him, but between the dreams and the way this feels so utterly inevitable, that might just be a w.i.s.h., not about to be granted by any demons around (not that it’s vengeance, really, so D’Hoffryn might sit this one out anyway).

If she’d mentioned something like that earlier, he would’ve torn her head off (verbally, or tried to physically; she’d stop him ‘cause she’s not big on the head-tearing thing). Now he just sounds a little sad, wistful maybe. “You think there’s an afterlife?”

Heavy, maybe, but it goes with the territory. “Well, I’ve met a couple ghosts, so that’s totally a thing.” And, well, it’s personal, but—“…and I was in Heaven, or a heaven, or something, for a bit after I died. I don’t really remember much, just…feelings, not details.”

He hums, giving up on his food and just downing his water in a few desperate gulps. “I envy you that. It’s nice to feel certain.” And she understands exactly how he can say that, given that he seems lost unless he’s pursuing his vengeance. Unless he’s not second-guessing himself because he’s caught up in the effects of what could maybe, just maybe, be a spell. She gets that, but at the same time, the occasional self-interrogation is good for the soul, because there’s nothing like a self-righteous person with power. She’s been there, she’s seen that, she’s even done that on occasion, and it never leads to places that are of the good.

Either way, it’ll come to a head tonight, assuming she’s getting any better at this dream-interpretation thing. She wishes him good night and pretends to fall asleep, just like she’s done in the past when she was trying to get a few texts out without him noticing, only this time it’s surveillance, not communication, she’s after.


	46. Souls of Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy is proven right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this time severin has no excuses for his use of language (it's offensive on purpose because he's trying to offend)

It feels like forever, waiting for Severin to make his move, and Buffy even starts wondering whether she’s reading this wrong. She doesn’t think she is. Sure, Sunnydale Syndrome is a thing, but there’s the whole Slayer Senses thing and she’s trained herself to actually look closer because that’s how she stayed alive all these years. She doesn’t think she’s wrong about the suspicion spell, but its very presence could be enough to get her to distrust and him to act so distrustful. But it feels like there’s something dark and something light fighting within him, and whichever wins, she’ll have to clean up after the mess.

She gets to think about that, about what she’ll do if he makes a move, about what she’ll do to be the leader she truly needs to be, when she gets back. It’s quite the planning session, but her senses are completely attuned to the dark hotel room.

Finally there’s movement. She feels simultaneously readier and relaxed, because she hates patience and waiting even though she did kind of have something to do for once. Montreux doesn’t turn on the lights, which makes sense for someone trying to be stealthy. Maybe he’s done this before; she doesn’t and can’t know.

There’s a moment when he moves to stand above her, silent and still and unnatural. A moment where she wonders whether she needs to act to protect herself. The moment stretches, and breaks, and he moves on, steps near-silent and ominous. Maybe normal humans wouldn’t have heard anything; she hasn’t known how normal humans would experience anything since she was fifteen.

She waits and then follows. As mad as she’d been at Dawn for sneaking off regularly like this all those years ago, it had been good practice. Their shared hotel room is on the third floor (second floor, it’s Europe and they’re weird, whatever), so it makes sense why Severin wouldn’t sneak out the balcony, but it’s easy enough for her to slip outside and slide down the columns. There’s only one exit, which makes it easy enough for her to find an easy spot to watch from and wait. She manages a brilliant, ditzy smile for the slightly startled looking older Italian woman that had apparently witnessed her leaving, moving on before the lady can try to ask her anything, getting out of the line of sight and secreting herself into an alcove (she’d think about one of the bushes, but she doesn’t want to act too suspicious to any other passerby, since they aren’t as likely to just pretend they saw nothing to protect themselves and remain blissfully ignorant). The last thing she needs is to get some random Italian person involved.

Soon enough, Severin walks out, and his stride is purposeful and businesslike. He knows where he’s going. If they’d been in Rome, she would’ve known, too; a year ago, when Giles was still inclined to let her off her leash, she’d acquired a few Slayers from Rome, and they’d even done a patrol or two. As it is, she doesn’t have a clue where they’re going, as Severin stalks along the darkened streets and the Slayer follows, his silent shadow.

She finally has a clue when she feels what they’re heading toward. There’s what feel like a lot of demons clustered in one place. A lot like Willy’s Bar.

Perhaps it would be the perfect place to get information. That’s where she’d go, when she was at a loss and needed to know more about some foe in Sunnydale. The human weasel that owned it knew a lot. Apparently according to Xander who’d mentioned it casually one night when he’d been talking about his past jobs with some of the newer Slayers, it’s because people, even demons, tend to talk to the bartender, like it’s magic or something. One of them had agreed with him but added he didn’t have to deal with harassment since he was a guy, and even at the end when she’d suddenly got strong her boss would’ve chewed her out if she’d slammed some lecherous guy’s head into the counter and it probably would’ve come out of her wages, which were just tips and she couldn’t afford that anyway. He’d just held his hands up in surrender and mumbled something about at least she was here now and didn’t have to put up with that, which—

Hang on, wasn’t she one of the Slayers who they hadn’t been able to get ahold of, was she okay—never mind, not thinking about that.

Spike had said something about a Slayer being a predator, being able to tell another predator, like a vampire. She’d hated the comparison at the time, but it’s useful now. Severin had pinged as weird since the very beginning, not that she’d been surprised, dreams and all. Most of the time, he hadn’t been the predator, though there had been a moment here and there. It’d just been that final fight against the Wolfram & Hart assassin or whatever she was supposed to be. And his step this time. He’s coming off as a hunter, on the prowl for his chosen prey.

He doesn’t hesitate at the door, pushing it open (and Buffy frowns; the strength she’d seen, that he’d tried to hide, he’d be able to kick down the door at the very least, what’s going on?) and making a dramatic entrance. The kind she’d do, sometimes.

“We don’t serve your kind here, except maybe as an _antipasto_ ,” the bartender calls out.

She can’t see Severin’s face, but she can hear the wicked grin in his voice. “Oh, I think you’ll serve me, in one way or another.”

They rush him, and he takes a deep breath, letting it out even as his hands begin to crackle with light. A dark doglike form dissolves immediately on contact. A set of fangs sink into his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to be upset about that. At all. He cackles, delighting in the violence, and, well.

It’s not like they’re probably innocent, at all. In any other situation, she’d be helping destroy them, but it’s probable that they’re not _all_ babyeaters or bloodsuckers, so she’d do her homework first. Some of them might play poker for kittens, but not hurt a single human. If they want to live peacefully alongside humanity, fine, they can take immigrants or refugees along those lines. From the way Severin’s acting, though, the few comments he’s let slip, he doesn’t agree. He grabs a human-looking demon by the face, hand still glowing, and it looks like it melts and crumbles, just like the past couple times.

She moves forward, intending to stop him, only he spins, faster than he’d been, and karate-chops at her neck. That’s almost a Slayer’s speed, but fortunately she’s still faster, getting her arms up to block the blow. He’s not using his full force, she can tell, but at the same time it _hurts_. She falls to her knees, a silent scream on her lips, and she _can’t move_ , muscles locking up. “You can wait your turn, demon’s bitch. I need to fill up the tank first.” He places a hand on the demon still attached to his shoulder by fangs, and it wails before falling suddenly, like a puppet with its strings cut. The glow grows stronger, and his wound starts healing in a fast forward that makes even a Slayer envious.

The look, feverbright in his eyes, is familiar, and Buffy suddenly gets what’s going on with that. He looks like Willow, when she’d been using too much magic. He’s an addict, seeking out his next hit, though it’s life force he’s getting a high on. Maybe if he’d detoxed, say, at the Coven, he’d be his old, _good_ self again, but as it is he’s on a rampage and he needs to stop. And if she can figure out a way through whatever he’d done to her, she’ll be the one to do it.

“Think you’ve…bitten off…more than you can chew?” she grits out, reaching inside to the core of her powers. It’s weaker, just a little, like something’s missing, and she was probably right about her suspicions this time, but it’s enough to start to fight off whatever he’d done. Her hand twitches.

“I’m impressed, which is rare. Maybe I’ll need a bigger feast first.” He runs, faster than she’d seen from him before, and she can’t find enough strength to follow yet.


	47. Stirred and Reawoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy doesn't regret taking a stand.

She’s still groggy. Moving takes a bit, but to her surprise no one actually makes a move. A vampire even grudgingly gets her a glass of water, to which she raises an eyebrow with effort.

He rasps a reply. “Usually, I’d kill a Slayer who’s vulnerable like this, but the last thing I want is a life-debt to the dead. So I didn’t kill you, and you’ll avenge us because that’s what you do, and our business is concluded.”

“Well, I for one would offer a drink of choice should she return. She saved my customers _and_ my bar, Slayer or not,” the bartender/apparent owner argues. All Buffy can make out without turning her head are a few horns. Not uncommon among the demon types.

There’s agreement, and arguing, and as she finally manages to turn her head it looks like there was a little more scuffling, so some of them had actually actively defended her after Severin had run off.

“I appreciate it,” she manages, after drinking the water and finding it doesn’t taste odd. “Letting the Siphon take you all would have been an unfair fight, never mind the trouble it would cause for you later.”

“So Solomon’s right? You’re hunting the Siphon?” She’d never know it to look at that demon, but judging by the voice, she’s female (even if it is the husky smoker kind of voice). And that’s, oddly enough, excitement and _hope_. It’s odd.

“I’ve heard the Siphon’s walking the earth on the hunt for an Old One, here on the mortal plane. As far as I knew, the First was the last one actually present, and before that Glorificus, though that was due to an exile.” This one looks humanoid, but is covered in so much ash she can’t actually make it out.

“Hang on, didn’t Wolfram & Hart have an Old One?” This one looks like a teenager, but absolutely isn’t if her Slayer Senses are anything to go by.

One helps her up, gruff, but friendly, and appearance-wise just like a grizzled old sailor except for the eyes that could be glowing coals. “Yeah, yeah, I heard Illyria came back, though rumors said she fought alongside Angelus. You should ask your ex, girl.”

“Why would he go after one on their side? Illyria is _friendly_.” Another vampire.

“The Siphon is on no one’s side,” the bartender mutters darkly, and there’s an uncomfortable silence.

It lets her get a word in. “Angel is dead.” She doesn’t owe them this, and the mere words could cause her to be seen as weak, but it’s important to get that word out, somehow.

“At least his demon will stop trying to end the world,” the second vampire mutters, and the sailor cuffs him over the head so hard he falls down.

“Sorry to hear that, girl. I think William the Bloody also knew her?” That’s…still a difficult topic to deal with, but she’ll figure it out. She doesn’t have a choice, not since she’s going for stopping Severin.

The door bursts open, and even as she gets into a fighting stance, as the others around her do the same, something bounds into the room. 

“You scared us, Feliciano!” one of the vampires exclaims and lets down his guard, and she does, too, after a moment. It’s definitely not a demon type she’s seen before, with a humanoid shape once it moves upright aside from oddly long and thin limbs and the ability to scurry across any point like a strange, four-limbed spider.

Feliciano shrugs and the bones creak, bony elbows moving unnaturally. “Someone had to follow the Siphon, if the Defier of Prophecy was to know his location.” He traces something with long fingers in the air, and then suddenly there’s a map made out of wisps and cobwebs and dew floating in the air before her. “Only you can see the contents, Slayer. It will be in the corner of the eye to all else. Follow the glowing dot and you shall find the Siphon. May the morning smile on your blood hunt.”

There’s some arguing over whether a shield of power will help her any, before they finally come to the conclusion it’s better he siphons that first because it gives her an opening, however brief. The sailor hands her a cutlass. “I’m expecting that back,” he tells her with a wink. With a practice swing or two, she notes that it’s a really good balance and weight. Could do some real damage, assuming Severin hasn’t gotten even faster than her by now.

“Do I need a weapons library card?” she teases, and the sailor-man grins.

“I know who you are. I know where to go if there are any late fees—” which is a pun, and a particularly groan-worthy one at that—“…since you’re sort of a celebrity.”

Smoky Demon pulls out a pair of grenades, which earns a scowl from the bartender/owner (“You brought those to my bar? What were you thinking?”), but she shakes her head. “If you’d had a rocket launcher, I’d have thought about it, but I’m more likely to just blow myself up. Yes, even if you teach me.” She’s not sure if she really would take a rocket launcher, and luckily none of them offers one. It’s hard to tell whether Severin really is human, but if he is she’d rather not kill him, personal reasons and all. Still, if it’s letting him kill her and then move on to people that she cares about…she’ll deal with it when it comes to that. Even then, she’d rather not use a grenade on a human, or mostly human, or whatever Severin is now. Though maybe, the more he absorbs of demons, the less human he becomes. She’ll learn the truth soon enough.

The teenager-in-appearance pulls out a crossbow from a backpack. Buffy smiles. “Thanks. I’m a lot more comfortable with the old-fashioned style of doing things.”

“Don’t worry about returning it. I can always get another. Though I could sign it, if you’d like…” He’s joking around too, trying to keep it light. She can still feel all the tension in the room, all the scared vampires and demons trying very hard not to be scared or show their fear.

Ordinarily, she’d be likely to wave it off, but this time she nods. “Sure, why not? My little sister might know who you are.”

He signs with a flourish, as the others look on with amusement and some heckling. None of them are brave enough to come with her. She’s not entirely surprised, but they’ve helped her more than she expected, and she has something else up her sleeve before she confronts their worst nightmare.


End file.
